Despite my determination to get in more training, my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I was too weary, and both my mind and body protested further exertions.
“Jamie! Are you still in there?”
My eyes flew open at the sound of Tara’s voice. I groaned and sat upright. What time was it? Light streamed in through the tent. Morning, by the looks of it.
“Jamie?”
“I’m here,” I rasped. I licked my dry lips. “Coming,” I called, louder this time. Labouring upright, I limped out of the tent and shielded my eyes from the bright morning sun.
“You don’t look so good,” said Tara, hands on hips, “but come on. We’re late already.”
“Late?” I asked, still befuddled by sleep. “What for?”
“The murluk attack.”
My mind snapped into focus. “Right, let’s go.”
We were both silent as we made our way out of the camp. The doubts I had wrestled with last night still lay in my thoughts, and I felt little desire to engage in conversation. Tara also seemed preoccupied, her mind elsewhere.
As we neared the river, I nearly stopped short. Along the top of the upper bank, large tree-trunk beams had been planted within the earthworks. Soren had been right last night, I mused. They had made good progress.
The palisade was still incomplete though, and gaps still dotted its length. If we didn’t hold the murluks at the river shore today, all the work would go to waste.
We slipped through the half-built palisade and, standing on the edge of the upper bank, surveyed the scene below. The lines of spearmen were neatly arrayed along the shore, with the commander at their back. Catching sight of her, bitterness swelled in me.
I swallowed it back. Now was not the time.
“Strange,” murmured Tara. She squinted up at the sun. “They’re late.” Not waiting for my response, she leapt down the bank, but stopped when she saw I hadn’t moved. “Hurry, Jamie,” she called, turning around.
I didn’t look at her. I was recalling last night’s conference: Petrov’s report, Soren’s troubles, and Melissa’s failures. There was so much that had to be done to secure the settlement. Three more days, I mused. It was not nearly enough time.
My eyes moved from the incomplete wall to the lines of spearmen. Over a thousand-odd soldiers—the bulk of the Outpost’s manpower—were tied down here, defending the river. The murluks were a distraction, I realised. All these men could be better used elsewhere.
I didn’t agree with everything Jolin had said last night, but she was right about one thing: the time for half-measures had passed. Coming to a decision, I stepped forward.
“Tara,” I called as I slid down the bank. “Have the commander pull the spearmen back. All the way to the top of the upper bank.” Reaching Tara’s side, I outlined the rest of my plan.
“That’s a damned fool idea,” she said, throwing up her hands in disgust. “But I’m tired of telling you no. Let’s go pitch your idea to the old lady. She can be the one to deny you this time.”
“You’re going to have to explain it to her.”
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
“The murluks might appear at any moment. I have to get to the shoreline,” I said. While that was true, it wasn’t the real reason I sent her in my stead. I didn’t feel up to facing the commander again just yet.
I limped past a staring Tara. “Go, Tara,” I snapped.
She went.
✽✽✽
Ten minutes later, I was sitting cross-legged in the mud and gently lapping waves of the river. I was the only human along the entire expanse of the lower banks.
I had feared at first that the commander would deny my request, or that the murluks would attack before the spearmen could reposition. Neither of those things turned out to be true.
Jolin had shifted her men with such speed I wondered if she had known what I was going to do all along. But that was impossible. The idea hadn’t even occurred to me until a few minutes ago.
Now, alone on the shore, I wondered if we had gone to all this trouble for naught. The murluks had still not shown up.
Are they even going to attack today?
My plan was simple. I was bait. It had worked the first day when I had saved the right flank, and I hoped it would work again today on a much larger scale. This time, I had dragonfire to call upon, and I wouldn’t need the spearmen to rescue me.
Or so I hoped.
It was a reckless plan, I knew. But no more foolish than attacking the spider queen, I thought with a wry smile. And the commander had agreed to it. So, it had to have some merit.
A splash pulled my attention back to the river. The first murluk had surfaced, and many more followed behind him. I got to my feet.
The murluks paused when they caught sight of me alone on the shore, but they didn’t hop forward eagerly as I’d expected. They appeared tentative… almost afraid. Gathering together in a crowd within the safety of deep water, they slurped hesitantly at one another.
I frowned. Did the murluks remember yesterday’s battle? Had it made them wary? It was certainly possible. After all, they were smart enough to build primitive weapons and armour.
What do we really know of the creatures? I wondered. Why did they only attack in the morning? For that matter, why did they attack at all? And where did they come from?
I shook my head. All good questions, but meaningless right now. I couldn’t let the battle be drawn out. One way or the other, I had to bring it to an end quickly. Wading a few steps into the river, I raised my hands and prepared to flare.
Even though they were well out of my reach, the murluks shrank back fearfully. Ah, I thought, halting my spellcasting. So they did remember. Many of the creatures dove back into the river, and for a second I dared to hope it meant an end to the day’s hostilities.
But not all the murluks fled.
For every two that retreated, one surged forward. Perhaps, they were emboldened by the fact that I was unaccompanied. My pulse quickened. There were maybe a thousand murluks—if not more—converging on me.
My legs trembled and my palms grew sweaty. Even expecting such numbers, I was hard-pressed not to give in to terror and flee. The numbers don’t matter, I told myself. You’re ready.
And I was.
Holding my nerve, I backstepped out of the river until I was on firm ground again. The first wave of murluks closed to within a few yards. I dropped my hands and let them approach unmolested.
It was hard.
The temptation to flare, to burn away my attackers, was nearly too great to ignore, but I held to my plan.
Now that the murluks had made up their minds to attack, I didn’t want to scare them off too early. First, I had to draw them in—as many as possible. The murluks reached me. Before their spears touched me, I cast invincible.
Then I threw a punch.
Though it was weak and poorly directed, the blow still landed, even as invincible turned away the murluk’s replying spear jab.
Your skill in unarmed combat has advanced to: level 1.
I grinned at the Trials message and felt my tension drain away. With fresh confidence, I threw another punch and ignored the forest of murluk spears thrust my way.
Alone and with my magic absent, I was a tempting target. More murluks poured towards me—jabbing, thrusting, and pulling. Under the weight of their numbers, I toppled over. But even though I was soon buried under a horde of blue, I was not worried.
It was part of my plan, after all.
Instead, I kept my eye fixed on my Trials core. When the timer on invincible hit fifteen seconds, I acted.
Through my hands, which I had been careful to keep facing outwards, I cast flare. The murluks recoiled, but were packed too tightly to dodge the reaching flames.
They burned. In ones and twos, then in dozens.
As the weight pressing down on me eased, I spread my arms, and even more died.
Too late f
or most to react, the murluks realised they had been baited. Those that could, fled, and abruptly the tide of creatures flowing from the river reversed course.
I rose to my feet and followed. Shoes squelching through mud, bone, and half-burned remains, I limped after the murluks. A quick glance left and right revealed that none of the creatures had attempted advancing beyond me to the ranks of spearmen on the upper bank.
But even though the murluk attack had been broken, I did not let up with flare. The more creatures I slaughtered, the better the chance that today’s disaster would be burned into their psyche. Hopefully it will forestall further attacks in the future.
I pursued the creatures right to the river’s edge, casting flare all the while to the very limit of my reach. Murluks, slid, fell, and shrieked in agony as they desperately tried to escape.
I did not relent.
Mercilessly, I burned every creature in reach, dealing death and leaving ash flying in my wake. A minute later my task was done.
All the murluks had fled. The river had grown quiet again and a hush had fallen. I swung around and saw the lines of spearmen watching in stunned silence from above.
I began limping my way back to them.
The commander raised her hand, and a moment later the air shook as the spearmen cheered my victory with a resounding roar.
Chapter 29
389 days until the Arkon Shield falls
3 days to Earth’s destruction
3 days until the Warren is destroyed
Tara met me on the lower riverbank. “Good job, Jamie,” she said quietly.
I nodded, not breaking stride. I was trying hard not to think of what I had done. Once again, the Trials had rewarded me for my efforts, and I had gained another level from the death I had dealt on the river’s shores.
You have gained in experience and are now a: level 19 Trainee.
“The old lady wants to see you,” Tara said.
Involuntarily, I glanced at the upper slope of the riverbank. Jolin and her guard were nowhere in sight, and the spearmen were dispersing, some heading to the training yard while others, jogging in formation, headed east. I hoped that meant the commander had sent them to aid the loggers.
“Later,” I said, waving away Tara’s words. I knew it hadn’t really been a request, but I didn’t care. “That crafter from yesterday’s conference,” I said. “I want to go see her.”
“Who? Melissa?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Tara said nothing for so long I thought she would refuse. “Alright,” she replied eventually.
We made the journey up the riverbank in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Today’s battle had finished even quicker than yesterday’s, and I could scarce believe that it was less than an hour since Tara and I had descended to the river.
As we neared our destination, Tara finally spoke up. “Why do you want to see Melissa?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t think Tara would understand. This excursion to the crafting yard was partly an excuse to hide from the commander and her soldiers’ adulation. The tribute the spearmen had paid me at the end of the battle had caught me by surprise. Their praise had seemed heartfelt, and it had felt good to hear it. But it had also made me feel guilty.
Today, the spearmen had lost none of their companions. My magic had spared them. But when I left, they would start dying again. I knew I couldn’t save them all, even if I stayed. It didn’t stop me from feeling responsible though.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if that was what Jolin intended. Had she ordered her troops to salute me, knowing it would make me feel this way?
Escaping the commander’s manipulations was not the only reason I wanted to see the crafters, though. There was something else I had in mind.
The crafting yard was mostly deserted today. The few present were already hard at work when we stepped into their yard.
Tara led me to the centre of the camp. There, I spotted Melissa and two other men near what appeared to be a misshapen clay oven.
No, not an oven, I realised, remembering Melissa’s words from the conference. A furnace.
One of the men, wearing oversized hide gloves, used two wooden poles to pull a clay pot out of the furnace and set it on the table beside it.
The three huddled over the contents and inspected it intently. “Damn it,” growled Melissa. “We’ve failed again.”
“Maybe we need more coal,” said one of them men.
“It ain’t the coal,” said the other, spitting to the side in disgust. “It’s the blasted furnace. It’s not good enough.”
The first man scratched his head. “What else is there left to try?” His companions didn’t answer, and the three fell silent as they pondered their options
I examined the furnace as we drew closer. It was a simple conical construction formed from clay and mud. A chimney belching black smoke stuck out of the top. Unlike everything else in the Outpost, the furnace seemed—at least to my inexperienced eye—to be well-fashioned, if primitive.
Melissa looked up and caught sight of us. “Tara,” she said, surprise clear in her voice. “What are you doing here?” Her face fell. “Is there trouble at the river?”
“No,” Tara replied. “Nothing like that.” She jerked one thumb towards me. “He wanted to see you.”
Melissa’s gaze swung to me, her face uncertain. “Jamie, isn’t it? The mage?” The two men’s eyes jerked upwards at Melissa’s words and they studied me, openly curious.
“That’s right,” I said. “I heard what you said in the conference yesterday and I thought maybe I could help.”
Melissa looked taken aback. “With making the tools?”
Before I could answer, the second of the two men barked out, “What? You’re a blacksmith too?”
“Hush, Anton,” said Melissa, casting a chiding glance at the man.
When she turned back to me, I nodded. “Yes actually, with making tools.” I glanced at Anton. “I’m not a blacksmith, but I think I may be able to help.”
Melissa’s eyebrows rose. “Explain,” she said.
“If I understood you correctly yesterday, you’re having trouble reforging the murluk spear tips, right?”
Melissa nodded. “Yes, whatever metal they’re made from is beyond our furnace’s ability to melt.”
“I can help with that—I think.”
“How?” she asked.
“Magical fire,” I replied.
Anton snorted. “Look here, lad. No open flame is going to melt these here spear tips. My furnace is hot enough to melt steel, and if that ain’t done the job, your fire ain’t gonna do squat either.”
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But it can’t hurt to try.”
Melissa glanced at Tara, who had been silently observing. Tara caught the look and nodded.
“Very well, Jamie,” said Melissa. “It’s worth a shot.”
“You can’t be serious!” protested Anton.
“Quiet, Anton,” snapped Melissa. “Let the boy try. He’s right. At this point, we’ve nothing to lose.”
Anton muttered imprecations under his breath, but didn’t object further. Folding his arms, the blacksmith watched as I joined them at the table and peered into the clay bowl.
Inside there were two murluk spearheads, blackened and soot stained, but otherwise appearing none the worse from their time in the furnace.
“Will you set the bowl down on the floor, please?” I asked the first man, who I assumed to be Anton’s assistant. Without comment, he picked up his poles and used them to place the bowl on the ground.
Falling to my knees, I bent over the bowl while the others—even the scowling Anton—leaned close to watch. I glanced up at them. “Everyone may want to take a step back. This might not go as planned.”
They fell back hurriedly.
Alright, I thought, staring into the bowl, here goes nothing. I reached within myself and charged the s
pellform of flare with mana and lifeblood. Then, doing my best to focus the inferno raging within me, I attempted casting flare only through the single finger I pointed at the bowl.
I failed.
Flames burst from my entire hand and enveloped the bowl, its contents, and the ground underfoot. “Damn it,” I muttered.
I’d thought my control of flare was better than that. But done was done. I let the flames rage for a few seconds before cutting off the flow of mana and lifeblood and peering at the results of my handiwork.
Urgh.
The grass and soil were scorched black. The clay bowl had disintegrated. And the spearheads’ precious metal—the whole point of this bloody exercise—had vanished into the ground.
“Sorry,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the others. “I hoped to do better.”
“Ha! I knew it!” said Anton. He strode forward triumphantly. “I told you you wouldn’t—” He stopped in stunned silence as he caught sight of the shattered bowl and traces of metal soaking the ground. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed.
Melissa’s eyes grew wide as she too noticed the spearheads were gone. “You’ve done it!” she breathed.
“Well not exactly,” I pointed out, “I may have melted the spearheads, but the metal has been lost.”
“Unimportant,” she pronounced. “We can come up with a means to better trap the metal.”
“Perhaps we can try using rocks,” said the other man, whose name I still didn’t know. His voice fairly quivered with eagerness.
“Or a thicker vessel,” grunted Anton. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Much thicker.” His scowl had vanished entirely, I noticed.
“So, we can make this work?” I asked Melissa, bemused by their reactions.
“Definitely, young man,” she said. “Definitely.”
✽✽✽
It was not as easy as the three crafters made it out to be.
Into pot after pot, I cast flare. One and all, they crumbled, shattered, or cracked. Eventually, the blacksmiths stopped filling the vessels with spearheads, and we focused purely on creating a suitable container.
It took longer than expected, but finally we achieved a workable solution: a monstrous slab of clay and rock that was able to withstand the five-second burn necessary to melt the spearheads.
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