by J. T. Wright
Arisa and Matt blanched at the command but didn’t hesitate. It was almost funny to see Matt, who was ever eager to throw fire and destruction, recoil as he summoned and cast his beloved flames. In any other situation, Kirstin would have laughed at the sight, but there was nothing funny about this.
As fire rained down on the Undead, the walls of the fort themselves started burning. Seasoned wood was no match for magical fire. The Fleshlings were walking torches that spread their flames, and the group was forced to retreat over the rear wall as the fort went up. No one looked back as the walls of the fort lit up their surroundings with a greasy, flickering light. They just ran.
And they kept running, fighting moving battles when they could. Sometimes they were surrounded and forced to hold fast against stronger and more diverse enemies. The group’s days of quietly building their strength were gone. Now they grabbed what they could and retreated as fast as possible, often watching dust clouds kicked up by Infernal and Undead forces approaching as they did.
The worst was the ambushes. Joel was emerging as a Scout. He had chosen the Class so that he could add to Trent’s efforts to offer the younger, lower-leveled boy a chance to fall back and rest. Joel never imagined that when he took over the scouting duties full-time, he’d be lacking in comparison to the Level 1 Survivalist.
No matter how hard he strained his eyes, Joel never spotted an ambush ahead of time. If it wasn’t for Keller’s Sentry Abilities, they would have walked into every ambush without fail. Joel made up for his failures by learning to read the terrain ahead, quickly spotting the best defensive positions, and leading the group towards them. It helped, a little.
Oddly enough, it was the Fleshlings that gave the group the most trouble. With the band’s increasing strength and Skill, these mindless beasts should have been the easiest thing they faced. They would have been, but no one, not even Keller with his detection abilities, could spot the glowing runes that signaled the creatures were about to sprout from the ground.
Without Trent’s uncanny vision to spot the runes, the group ran into them blindly. Under sudden attack from Fleshlings, whose strength grew along with their numbers, Lyra was no longer able to use her area of effect spells. She might get off a few Minor Area Heals, which aided her allies while damaging the Undead, but they often suffered wounds requiring more than the simple Spell could handle.
With Lyra, their most effective weapon against the Undead, held back, battles against Fleshlings often lasted long enough for another pursuing force to catch up. Their injuries continued to pile up in the face of the unrelenting attacks. The group’s strength declined even as their Levels and Skills increased.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed like this. There was no sun to mark the passing of days, no cycle of sleep to call night. After a time, they almost came to dread having to sleep. Three or four hours of nervous rest, only to fight again immediately on waking, was no friend to the beleaguered squad, and the Undead always caught up while they slept, since finding places where they could avoid being surrounded and keep an open line of retreat was difficult.
Kirstin guessed it had been weeks like this before they stumbled onto the cave. It was not a Safe Zone, gods how she wished they could find a Safe Zone, but it was large enough that they could all fit inside. The entrance to the cave was also narrow enough that Dirk could cover it with his Shield Wall Skill. He gained significant mastery in this Skill over the past two weeks, enough that he could now allow allies to attack through it.
It wasn’t a perfect solution, and Kirstin thought the constant drain on Dirk was slowly killing him, but it allowed them a chance to catch their breaths. It wouldn’t last. Kirstin knew it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. The Trial hated to see them… she didn’t know what to call this stalemate. It wasn’t safe, they weren’t comfortable. How could they be? Currently, they were relying on Dirk and Keller, and that just couldn’t be sustained.
Those two still hadn’t gotten proper rest. Oh, they said they were fine, they insisted they could hold as long as it took, but that was clearly a lie. Constant vigilance was impossible to maintain, and while everyone was improving in ways that benefited the group, no one had the Skills to replace the Sentry and the Heavy Infantryman.
When Kirstin’s head was clear enough to think straight, she was amazed at the sacrifices the group had made willingly to keep one another alive. She had thought that she, Joel, and Dirk had made significant deviations from their planned Classes, but the Adventurers couldn’t compare to the Guardsmen, or rather the recruits.
The first and most shocking was Arisa. She had learned the Appraisal Skill a few days before they had left the fort. It was a desperately needed Skill. Without it, they had been passing around Skill Stones and equipment blind to what they were getting. Learning Appraisal had instantly increased the Corporal’s ability to spread the proper Skills to the right people.
What had shocked Kirstin was that Arisa had also taken up the Scholar Profession. It paired with Appraisal and made the Skill more effective, but Arisa was a Mage of the Al’drossford Guard. In Al’drossford all young mages had one goal that they aspired to: The Storm Sorceress, Vanessa Al'varren De Al'dross, Kirstin mother.
All Mages who joined the Guard did so hoping to become like the Lady Vanessa. None came close in the end, but that didn’t stop them from trying. For Arisa, choosing Scholar as a Profession cut off her path to the Sorceress Class. Unless the young Mage had two more Profession slots, which was highly doubtful, she could only become…
Kirstin didn’t even know what she could become. She didn’t know enough about Mage Classes to guess how Arisa would proceed if they made it out if this Trial.
A muttered, “Shit,” drew Kirstin out of her musings. Corporal Francis was on his feet, spear in hand, staring at the back of the cave. Kirstin turned her tired, bleary eyes to where he was looking but didn’t see anything to get upset about. She climbed to her feet anyway.
“Everyone up,” Frank shouted. “Up and ready, now!”
The senior Guardsmen didn’t need to be told; whatever the Corporal had seen, they had spotted as well. Recruits and Adventurers pulled themselves upright and looked around anxiously. There was nothing to be seen, had the Corporal started to crack?
“Is it still moving, Corporal, or has it always been moving, just too slow for us to notice?” Merrill whispered. His voice was raspy with sleep, but his eyes were clear.
“I think it’s a recent change, but who knows,” Frank replied tersely. “Keller, is it clear outside? Can we run if we have to?”
“Near as I can tell, but this cave messes with my Ability to sense clearly in all directions,” Keller snarled, but his mood seemed directed at the wall, not the Corporal. “Could be running into an ambush for all I can say.”
The fog clouding Kirstin’s mind settled more thickly about her. She still didn’t see what was wrong. Had all the Guardsmen cracked?
She didn’t see it, and then she did. The cave was almost twice as big as it had been! Kirstin’s sword shot out of its sheath, and she stifled a yelp. That wasn’t fair, caves don’t grow! Or it was fair; it was a warning that something wasn’t right. Wasn’t it better to have an obvious sign rather than having monsters suddenly show up, standing over the group as they slept?
“Should we run now, take our chances in the open?” Kirstin asked as she shook her head from side to side vigorously. Had she just been making excuses for this thrice-damned Trial? Had she thought the Guardsmen were starting to crack? Clearly, she was the one breaking under pressure.
“Too late for that,” Frank growled. “Imps.”
The cave wasn’t well lit, a few balls of Spell light cast deep shadows everywhere. Stepping out of those shadows, ten muscular figures appeared. With skin a mixture of black and yellow, as if they were covered in bruises, the Imps were slightly shorter than the average human. A pair of short horns protruded from their foreheads, and their red eyes glittered in the dark.
They were
armed with short wicked-looking spears that appeared carved out of black stone. Armor of a similar material covered their torsos and upper legs, but their arms and lower legs were left bare. Long sinuous tongues flicked in and out of narrow mouths as the creatures chittered and hissed menacingly.
“We’ve got company at the entrance,” Dirk called.
Ten more Imps were rushing his position. Dirk planted his shield against the floor and activated Shield Wall to hold them off, a strategy that had served them well in the past.
“No Skills, these aren’t…” Frank called, but it was too late.
Maybe it was his fault for identifying them as Imps. There were several varieties of these creatures in the world, and most of them were looked down on by Adventurers. Those common Imps were pranksters with less strength than a low leveled Goblin. That was why Dirk activated Shield Wall.
But these were Infernal Imps, foot soldiers of the lesser demonic races. Frank had never faced one before, but he’d heard of them. These Imps were Skilled Warriors, capable of breaking defensive barriers like Shield Wall.
Three stone spears connected with Dirk’s barrier all at the same time, and the Imps used a Skill of their own. Shield Wall shattered like glass, and Dirk found himself huddled behind his shield, unprepared for the assault. Joel and Merrill came to his aid, swords hacking and thrusting as they pulled the Defender to his feet.
Frank cursed as the ten Imps at the back of the cave moved to attack. Surrounded and outnumbered, like always, he activated Holy Strike and met the Imp’s charge. Holy Strike wasn’t quite as effective against the Imps as it was the Undead, but Frank’s Skill halted three of the creatures in their tracks.
Chaos erupted in the small space. Frank called for the casters to hold their spells, even as he pierced the neck of one Imp with the blade of his spear and pushed another back with the butt. Lyra cut off a Purification Spell. It was almost second nature for her to cast this, but with Frank’s call, she realized it probably wouldn’t be as effective on the Imps as it was on the Undead.
Frank couldn’t help but wonder at their luck. It obviously wasn’t good. This was the first time the Trial had thrown Infernal enemies at them, and they weren’t ready for them. Their weapons were empowered to deal with the Undead and were too long for the cramped conditions in the cave.
Infernal Imps were fast, smart, skilled, and their shorter weapons were an advantage. Frank snarled as one Imp lunged at him. He dropped his own spear and grabbed onto the shaft of the one reaching for his chest. A step, a twist, and an activation of Disarm saw his snarl turn into a feral grin. He would have had the head of any Recruit who attempted this, but Frank was no Recruit.
The spear twirled in his hands, and he sent it plunging back at its former owner. The stone spear pierced the Imp’s armor easily, and Frank drove the tip into the beast’s heart. It had been a gamble, and not a wise one, but Infernal Creatures fought amongst themselves as often as they did the Awakened. The Imp’s weapon held its own bane.
With a more appropriate weapon in hand, Frank bought his group some room. Beside him, Keller attempted a similar move and quickly demonstrated why the Corporal’s gamble was so risky. Keller wasn’t as proficient as Frank, but he was still a well-trained warrior, skilled in the use of spears. Keller’s opponent fell for the same trick and was disarmed, but Keller found himself in the same state. The Imp’s short spear vanished as it left its owner’s grip. In the end, the spear was a creation of the Trial and not something that could just be claimed. Keller found himself empty-handed, his own trustworthy weapon at his feet.
He didn’t have time to swear about his own luck before an enraged lesser demon was lunging at him. The creature closed on him, and its charge brought the two to the floor. Struggling and punching wildly, the Guardsman and the Imp rolled around, and Keller quickly learned why it was best not to grapple with an Infernal Imp. The Imp was strong! Keller quickly found himself being dominated by the smaller but well-muscled Imp.
Keller might have lost his life there if not for Lyra and Matt. The Healer and Mage intervened, delivering heavy blows to the Imp with their staffs. These two were showing how they were benefitting from the forced practice in the physical aspects of combat, more than they had ever desired, that this Trial had given them. They were starting to excel at it, and between the two of them, they pushed the Imp back. Keller rearmed himself and rejoined the fight while silently promising never to imitate a Corporal ever again.
The rest of the fight was short and bloody. With his new spear, the Imps weren’t a match for Frank, but the close quarters still allowed the Imps to deal out damage to nearly everyone in the group before they were finally overcome. Frank didn’t even allow Lyra to patch up the wounded, insisting she do it on the move.
When the Healer complained, Frank spoke abruptly as he hustled everyone out of the cave. “Did you not see the cave wall move?” Frank said through clenched teeth. “That wasn’t something that the Trial did. Infernal Imps can manipulate stone and earth. If there are more around, this cave is a death trap. We need to get into the open.”
Frank cut himself off quickly. He almost revealed what could be coming next. If the Trial was starting to throw the Infernal at them, then the group would be facing casters soon. So far, all their opponents had used physical attacks, but if magic users were coming… sometimes more information wasn’t a good thing.
Frank had two Mages and a Healer on his side, and the Mages had been of little use so far. He was willing to bet that any Mages the Trial sent against his group would be better trained. He didn’t know how he was going to deal with enemy casters given the resources, or lack of, at his disposal.
Joel was the first out of the cave. His searching eyes found no sign of an enemy, but they did pick up on a piece of loot that must have been kicked outside during the struggle. A bow! Made of bone and metal, it looked better than his. He hadn’t been acting as an Archer since becoming the group’s Scout, but he heard Frank warning Lyra and had picked up on what the Corporal hadn’t said.
Archers were the traditional response to Mages. Joel tested the draw on the found bow and decided he liked it. The problem was that, because he wasn’t a pure Archer anymore, the odds of him being able to learn Skills that could counter a Mage’s defensive Skills were slim. He needed to get Arisa to Appraise this bow. Even if he couldn’t use it, they had someone in the group that could.
The Appraisal said the bone bow was of common quality but would still deal a great deal of damage against the Infernal. It wasn’t what Joel had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. Before they set off, Joel pulled the Recruit, Bailey, aside.
“Hey, kid, can you use this?” Joel offered the bow to the Recruit, and initially, Bailey looked eager, but his mouth quickly turned sour.
“Ah, no, thank you.” Bailey clutched the short bow he’d gotten from Trent to his chest. “I'll stick with this one.”
Joel was puzzled. “Are you sure? I know that one has the Create Arrow Enchantment, but I can give you some arrows and…”
“I'm sure!” Bailey said hurriedly. “This one is fine for me.”
Joel raised his eyebrows, but he stored the bone bow in his own Storage Bag and shrugged. It wasn’t any of his business, and he had scouting to do.
Bailey sighed in relief as Joel walked away. The bone bow was good, but Bailey wasn’t about to give up this bow without a fight. His first impression of what he had considered a basic training tool had changed, now that he knew the bow’s true worth. This short bow could impart the Create Arrow and the Triple Shot Skills! It was beyond priceless in Bailey’s opinion.
Archer’s Skills were hard to come by in the Guard. At least they were before you had been assigned a permanent post, and Bailey was a pure Archer with no intention of giving up his Class. Sergeant Cullen had solidified Bailey’s desire to stay an Archer when he had spoken of the Awakening some weeks ago. Archer was one of the first four Classes! One of the first and that made it important.
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br /> So many Specializations were a combination of Classes. Scouts, for example, were a blend of Rogue, Warrior, and Archer. Bailey had been a little disappointed when Joel gave up the Archer Class for Scout. Clutching the short bow tightly, Bailey knew he’d never do such a thing, even though that choice was limiting what he was able to contribute to the squad right now.
He’d leveled up as much as any of the recruits just by being a member of the party, and on each Level he had invested in Intelligence, which improved the ability to learn Skills faster and increased Mana. His MP was high enough to use this short bow now, and that meant he would Specialize soon. Specialization would be a step down the Archer’s path, and this bow was his guide.
Joel, who had left Bailey and his dreams behind, was back in his position at the head of the group. The pace had slowed, however, because Scout Joel had not had the opportunity to scout ahead, and no clear destination had been determined. Corporal Francis left it up to Joel to pick their path, only suggesting deviations occasionally.
Using Far Sight, Joel thought he found another defensive location, only Joel had noticed that the terrain in the Lands of the Undying Lord wasn’t natural. The appearance of the canyons and ravines looked less and less like natural formations and more like open wounds in the earth. The whole Trial was twisted and broken as if someone had lifted the land into the sky and dropped it.
What Joel thought he had found looked like a fortress, a stone fortress that had possibly once guarded a mountain pass. Only now, the fortress was sunken, and the mountains had crowded around its walls. The only approach that Joel could see led through a canyon, and he couldn’t be sure of an exit from the fortress other than the way in. It some ways, the fortress might be more confining than the cave had been.
Unwilling to make the decision on his own, Joel called the Corporal forward and told him what he could see. Frank squinted, but without Far Sight, he was unable to make out the details that Joel could.
