“There are a damn sight more today than yesterday,” Tara said. Her eyes never left the amassing enemy as she kept pace beside me. “Or any other day,” she added after a moment’s reflection.
I swallowed and quickened my pace. It did not bode well for the Outpost. Or me. Will we survive today’s confrontation?
Despite our renewed urgency though, Tara and I were still out of position—racing along the back of the human line—when the murluks swept forward in a tide of angry slurps and bobbing spears.
“Hurry, Jamie!” Tara urged.
I tried to, but I was already going as fast as I could. For the umpteenth time I cursed my crippled foot and the circumstances that had led to it.
We were still dozens of yards from the northern end of the line when the tide of blue crashed into the spearmen braced to meet them. Unconsciously, both Tara and I had skidded to a halt to watch the moment of impact.
The murluks outnumbered the thin wall of humans many times over, and it seemed impossible that soldiers would be able to weather the flood. Heart in my throat, I watched the horde break against the spearmen.
Orders were called out, and as one, shields were braced and spears lowered. Then, with a tremendous roar that contained as much fear as it did fury, weapons were thrust out.
The line bowed, but did not buckle. Men fell, but did not falter. No one ran. No one broke. Unflinchingly, the spearmen faced their enemy and held. Relief whipped through me as, unbelievably, the murluks were stopped.
But not without cost.
In places, the spear wall looked to be in near tatters. Already, reinforcements were racing to plug the gaping holes that threatened. Tara unclipped her shield and drew out her spear as she made to join the line.
I flung out a hand and clutched her arm. “No, Tara,” I said. “Let’s stick to the plan. Help me and you will better help them.” I hope.
Tara looked torn. Her desire to race to her companions’ aid was naked on her face, but equally visible was her hope.
Hope that my magic could do the impossible.
I made sure my own face was impassive and let no hint of doubt cloud my expression. How did I end up in this situation? I wondered. I was gambling far too much—everything, really—on the slim chance that my yet-untried magic could work miracles. I knew it wasn’t smart, but I was already committed. I couldn’t let Tara or the Outpost’s people down.
Whatever Tara saw in my face, it convinced her. She wrapped her own arm around mine and yanked. “Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s go get it done.”
I let her pull me along. No matter how graceless the manoeuvre, or how embarrassing it was to be dragged by the small captain, I did not attempt to hinder her efforts. Right then, haste was more important than my dignity.
We reached the northern edge of the spear wall. At my request, we moved beyond, until the closest of the battling humans and murluks were more than two dozen yards south of us. “This is far enough, I think,” I said.
Tara dropped my arm and readied her weapons again. “Alright, Jamie, what now?” she asked. Her eyes skipped left to the lines of struggling men. I could see she was eager to join them.
I left my own shield and club in place across my back. If things went as planned, I would not need them. “We need to go beyond the line—”
I broke off as a slew of Trials alerts flooded my vision.
“Ignore that,” ordered the black-haired captain. Her impatience was growing. “It is just the old lady casting her auras. Now finish what you were about to say.”
With difficulty, I pulled my eyes away from the Trials messages and dismissed them. Jolin had an impressive number of buffs at her disposal. It gave me new confidence. Boosted by the commander, the spearmen’s own strength would be doubled, if not tripled.
The battle isn’t lost yet.
I turned back to Tara. “We need to advance beyond our lines, right up to the water’s edge, and then close on the murluks from the north—”
“What?” asked Tara in both disbelief and outrage. “Are you mad? You want us to flank the murluks? Just you and me, all on our lonesome? What are you thinking, Jamie!”
“Tara, listen—”
She paid me no attention. Her ire growing with every word, Tara spoke over me. “The moment we are spotted, the creatures will swarm all over us. We will be overwhelmed in no time! Not even your invincible will save you. And don’t be hoping for rescue from the fighters. The commander will not let the spearmen break formation.” Tara glared at me as she paused for breath.
“Trust me, Tara,” I said, speaking more urgently now. If I didn’t convince her soon, I was going to lose her. “I don’t intend for us to be overwhelmed. Once I cast my spell, I’m pretty sure the murluks won’t stay to face us.”
“Pretty sure?” asked Tara, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Unfortunate choice of words,” I replied hastily. She still didn’t look convinced. “I will do this alone if I have to,” I added.
Tara’s brows drew down as she scowled at me, doubt warring with duty. The commander had ordered her to guard me. Finally reaching a decision, Tara grabbed my arm abruptly and hauled me forward towards the river.
“Don’t disappoint me, Jamie,” Tara growled. “If this madcap plan of yours gets more of our people slain, I will kill you myself.”
I stayed silent, but inwardly I agreed with the fierce green-eyed woman. If my plan failed, I would let her.
As we hurried to the river’s edge, I cast an anxious gaze south. The human line had not crumpled yet. Despite the preposterous weight of numbers bearing down against them, they still stood firm.
There is still time to enact my plan. I ran my eyes over the nearest murluks. Fully engaged in their battle against the spearmen, none of the creatures had spotted us yet.
That would change soon.
We made it to the water’s edge without mishap. I kept going and waded a few steps into the river before swinging to face southwards. Standing knee deep in the sloshing waves, I took a moment to prepare myself.
The northern edge of the murluk horde was less than thirty yards away, and the creatures were throwing themselves with reckless abandon directly against the spearmen. Curiously, the murluks made no attempt to encircle or flank their foes. They surely had the numbers to do it. Not only that, but with the river to conceal their movements, they could easily pull off the manoeuvre.
But such cunning seemed beyond the murluks. Brute force appeared the only tactic the creatures understood.
They are primitive, I told myself, hoping to reassure my jangling nerves. My entire plan—such as it was—hinged on the murluks’ seeming primitiveness. I was hoping, perhaps foolishly, that the creatures shared the same instinctive fear of fire that all beasts did.
I paused, struck by a sudden and worrying thought. Surely the commander must have tried using fire against the murluks already?
Idiot! Why didn’t you consider that earlier?
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask Tara, when I glimpsed her expression. Her patience was wearing thin. I suspected she would drag me away if I gave her further reason to doubt the soundness of my plan.
Nothing for it, then.
“Right, let’s advance,” I said before Tara could hurry me along again. Following my own command, I shuffled forward through the thick river mud. “Whatever happens, Tara, stay behind me.”
“Got it,” she replied curtly.
I shaped the spellform of flare in my mind as we advanced. Keeping a careful eye on the murluks, I held the spell at the ready, but uninfused.
Ten yards away from the battling lines, the first of the murluks finally noticed us. Slurping excitedly, eight of the creatures veered away from the spearmen and headed our way.
“Jamie,” Tara called out in warning.
“I see them,” I said. Drawing on my lifeblood and mana, I charged the construct in my mind. I winced at the split-second of pain the spell caused as i
t roared to life inside me and set my blood alight.
The dragonfire immediately set itself against my will and attempted to spew forth in an uncontrolled burst. With effort, I kept the raging torrent within me at bay and continued my advance, drawing closer to the murluks still.
Confident, bunched together, and betraying not the slightest hint of suspicion, the creatures charged, racing each other to be the first to get to us.
“Jamie! Do—”
I blocked out Tara’s shouting. Narrowing my eyes, I peered intently at my oncoming foes. When the closest was little more than two yards away, I flung up both my arms, palms facing outwards, and unleashed my dragonfire.
Impatient to escape my clutches, twin jets of flame roared out of my hands and exploded into cones of heat and burning light that attempted to incinerate everything in a six-foot radius.
The murluks were caught squarely in between. The scorching flames licked eagerly at their unprotected skin, and in an instant the creatures’ slurps transformed into shrieks. Betrayed by their own momentum, even the murluks in the rear fell into the dragonfire’s hungry embrace, despite their frantic efforts to turn and flee.
Unbidden, a Trials message popped open in my vision.
Spontaneous analyse triggered by attack. You have uncovered a murluk Trait: Vulnerability to Fire. Your skill in anatomy has advanced to: level 1.
“Now isn’t the time,” I growled. Dismissing the alert, I returned my attention to the burning murluks. All eight writhed in agony. Some rolled in the mud, trying to put out the flames, while others attempted to crawl feebly away. They were no threat. Not anymore.
But they aren’t dead either.
Hardening my heart against the murluks’ whimpers, I kept my dragonfire centred on them. It took five seconds. Five long seconds, during which I wished I could close my ears just as easily. Five endless seconds before the last of their cries was silenced entirely.
When it was done, nothing remained of the murluks but smoking trails of ash.
Lowering my hands, I stared in horror at the destruction I had unleashed. I had thought I’d known what to expect. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Flare had burned hotter and brighter than any normal fire. Lingering until it had consumed everything in its path, the dragonfire had left nothing behind, not even bones.
“Jamie?” asked Tara.
I could hear the uncertainty in her voice—in Tara, whom I had seen betray very little anxiety before this. I broke off my contemplation of the smouldering piles of ash. Reaching out to her, I began, “Tara—”
She stepped back, eyes widening in alarm.
I dropped my hands quickly, thinking it was the gesture she was fearful of. “Don’t be scared, Tara. I won’t hurt you!”
She scowled. “I am not afraid, you fool. It’s your eyes!”
“My eyes?” I asked, confused.
“They’re gold,” Tara said, regaining her composure. “And glowing.”
“Oh,” I said, not sure what else to say. Focusing my magesight inwards, I realised my blood was still singing with dragonfire. Even though I had cut off its outward flames, the flare spellform was still active within me.
After cutting off the flows of mana and my lifeblood, I soothed the fire within me. “Better?” I asked.
“They’re back to normal now,” Tara said. Leaning forward, she gazed searchingly into my eyes. “What was that spell?
“A rare fire magic spell,” I replied. My voice was smooth with no betraying hitch as I lied—I had been prepared for the question. “I was fortunate to discover it.”
Tara grunted. Her eyes flicked beyond me. Turning around, I followed her gaze. The rest of the battle continued unabated, but my skirmish with the eight murluks had not gone unnoticed.
The scorching flames had attracted the attention of dozens more of the creatures. Breaking away from their attack on the spear wall, the murluks gathered in an unruly crowd a few yards away from Tara and me.
Yet they did not approach any closer.
Hopping about in agitation, the murluks seemed torn between attacking—and fleeing. I had been right. The murluks were afraid of fire.
“Advance down the river, eh?” said Tara, looking from me to the murluks. “How long can you keep those flames going?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Not long enough to cover the length of the spear wall, certainly. But I am hoping that won’t be necessary. I expect the murluks to flee when they realise what they’re up against.”
Tara glanced down at piles of ash and smiled. “I dare say you are right, fish.”
✽✽✽
A few moments later, Tara and I were advancing south again.
With much slurping and hissing at each other, the gathered murluks backed away.
That’s it. Run. You don’t want to face me, I thought, hoping the threat of dragonfire alone would be enough to carry the day.
But it was not to be.
More of the creatures slipped away from their attack on the lines to join the mass of bobbing shapes facing Tara and me. As the numbers of murluks barring our way south grew, their retreat also slowed.
They find safety in numbers, I realised. It fuels their courage. I licked my lips. There were at least fifty murluks in the bunch facing off against us. Will my dragonfire be enough to stop them? I wondered.
“They’re going to charge soon,” I called to Tara over my shoulder. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she affirmed, her voice grim.
I raised my arms and prepared to flare.
At the gesture, the murluks rushed forward, splashing through the churned-up water in a mad dash. I didn’t wait for them to close. Spreading my arms wide, I unleashed dragonfire. White-hot flames spewed forth, and this time I made no attempt to control it.
I let the fire rage free and watched with a steely gaze as the flames fanned outwards in a semicircle three yards around me—the limit of my spellpower’s reach.
At the last instant, courage abandoned the murluks. Or sense prevailed. The ones at the fore tried to halt their reckless dash. But it was too late. The tide could not be stemmed and, inexorably, the creatures fell into the clasp of the waiting flames.
Fire rippled through the murluks, eating hungrily through skin, blood, and bone. And in shockingly little time, their charge crumpled, transformed in an instant into swirling ash and charred remains.
Sudden dizziness assailed me. I staggered, then fell to my knees. My pulse beat erratically and stars danced before my eyes.
I had attempted too much, I realised. The spell had consumed a huge chunk of my mana, and an even larger portion of my health. My life dangled on a slender thread. Fighting nausea, I deactivated flare.
What happened to being careful? I chided myself.
“Jamie! Jamie, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I gasped. “I just need a moment to gather my breath. The murluks?”
“Gone,” Tara pronounced with savage satisfaction. She paused. “That was some spell.”
I laughed weakly. “Yeah, it was.” Remaining with hands on knees, I cast lay hands. Mana slipped into my hands and suffused them with a gentle blue radiance. The spell’s light lasted only an instant before its energy was siphoned away by my body. I sighed, breathing easier as new life flowed through me.
“What was that?” asked Tara. Her sharp-eyed gaze had not missed the tell-tale glow that had surrounded my hands.
“A healing spell, lay hands,” I replied. “I injured myself when I fell,” I lied. To distract her from further questioning, I raised one arm. “Help me up, please.”
With Tara’s help, I staggered to my feet and surveyed the river shore. The battle’s fury had not diminished. The murluks still attacked in a frenzy, although their numbers on the northern side had substantially dwindled. It seemed that more than a few of the nearby murluks had fled once they’d witnessed their companions’ fate.
“Things have ease
d on the right,” Tara said, echoing my thoughts. “That section of the line will hold.”
I nodded. Farther south, however, matters were still in doubt. Turning my gaze inwards, I studied my reserves of stamina, health, and mana. My mana pool was still more than half full, and my health had been fully restored.
My stamina was another matter entirely.
Given the disparity between my Might and Magic Potentials, my reserve of stamina was much smaller than my mana. And after my flagrant use of dragonfire, my stamina had been drained to less than a quarter.
I still had enough for a few more uses of flare, but I wouldn’t be able to pull off another uncontrolled burst. “Let’s keep advancing,” I said.
“You sure?” asked Tara. She scrutinised my face. “Can you keep going?”
“I can,” I said. I must. “But I won’t be able to pull off the stunt I just did again,” I admitted. “My mana is running low.”
Once more, I was forced to lie. I couldn’t tell Tara it was actually my stamina that was low. That would invite too many questions. I said, “I should be able to keep casting long enough to scare off the murluks, though.”
“Alright,” said Tara. “Let’s do it.”
✽✽✽
We resumed our plod through the mud. None of the remaining murluks turned to face us. Instead, steadfastly ignoring Tara and me, the creatures threw themselves with abandon against the spearmen. But as we closed to within flare range, the murluks finally reacted to our presence.
As one, they turned and fled.
Peeling away from the right flank, the creatures dove for the safety of the water. I heaved a relieved sigh. It appeared that the murluks had learned their lesson.
Ragged cheers and yells rose from the spear wall. Turning that way, I saw that some of the spearmen had raised aloft their weapons and were saluting us. I raised my own arm in tentative acknowledgement.
“Let’s keep going, Jamie,” Tara said. “There is still more work to be done.”
Following the direction of Tara’s gaze, I saw she was right. Not all the murluks had abandoned their assault. While the immediate area around us was free of enemies, farther south the murluks still pressed the attack.
Overworld (Dragon Mage Saga Book 1): A fantasy post-apocalyptic story Page 19
