Blackout Series Books 1-2 (A Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller)

by Adam Drake

  Confused, I was about to run over to her when I noticed the last two riders of my cavalry cut down the final archer.

  But there was still the other archer unit. They fired a volley and one of the riders went down. The lone rider still charged at them. I knew he wouldn't make it.

  And once he was dead, those archers could easily take me out with a single volley.

  Two Minute Warning!

  I gave Amara a nasty look. She just smiled at me from her mount, unmoving.

  Convinced she would not attack, at least for the moment, I shouted to Grax. “Go crush those archers!”

  Grax immediately turned and raced toward them, causing a grunt to bounce of his leg and go flying. The remaining grunts tried to follow him but he was too fast.

  The last rider fell to the archer's volley, but not before Grax stomped into them, log-club swinging.

  I turned to Amara, sword at the ready. “You and I have some unfinished business.”

  She stared at me from atop her mount, grinning like an idiot.

  Not waiting for a reply, I ran at her, then jumped. I sailed through the air, screaming like a banshee. Just before the moment of impact, I swung my sword.

  And I sailed straight through her and tumbled across the platform.

  I spun around and looked at her in confusion. She wasn't solid. Phased?

  Sensing a trap, I cautiously moved closer to her, and swung my sword at the front legs of her horse.

  The sword passed through them, like they were nothing but air.

  Annoyed, and even more confused by now, I walked forward into the ghostly image swinging my sword.

  Amara and her horse suddenly flickered then vanished.

  It was a trick. It wasn't Amara at all. She'd left this image of her as a decoy. Where was she?

  Then it hit me. If she wasn't here, then my banner was unguarded.

  I moved toward the altar to take the banner from the outstretched hand of the skeletal altar.

  Four remain grunts suddenly rushed in to block my way, forming a line with spears at the ready.

  I snorted a laugh. This wouldn't take much. A glance at Grax showed he had crushed the archer's unit down to five men. The banner was as good as mine.

  A quick swing took out the closest grunt. But as I stepped in to take out the rest, I noticed movement in the trees to the north of the platform.

  A rider, wearing mostly gray with a blue vest, emerged from the forest and I recognized it as Amara. Behind her, from within the thick forest, something huge moved. An orange light appeared there and grew brighter.

  Suddenly, a tall being stepped out into the clearing. It was a tree, in the shape of a man, with arms and legs. I'd seen similar before in my questing life and knew it to be a Treant. But this was much bigger than any I'd encountered before.

  A champion.

  And being a champion, it couldn't be any old run of the mill Treant. It was on fire. Where there should have been leaves, there were large orange flames. Huge fires burned at the ends of its arms. Large cracks in its trunk formed a kind of face, with eyes and a mouth. And from within those, a fire burned.

  Shocked, I took in these new arrivals. This was not good.

  The Fire Treant ran forward toward Grax.

  Amara kicked at her horse and galloped toward the platform, racing past Grax who was busy crushing the head of an archer with a hand.

  Grax finally noticed the giant flaming tree coming at him. He turned to meet the attack, swinging his log-club.

  The Fire Treant raised a flaming hand and grabbed the log-club, stopping the mighty swing. It plunged its other flaming hand into Grax's face.

  Grax bellowed in agony.

  One Minute Warning!

  Uh-oh. Things were getting out of hand quickly.

  With Amara racing toward the platform, I attacked the grunts blocking my way to the banner. Two sword swipes left two of them dead. The last held his ground.

  Amara reached the platform and galloped toward me.

  I feinted in one direction, causing the last grunt to stab at empty air. Then I sliced his head off.

  With no time left, I didn't even bother to look at Amara. Instead, I leapt at the altar and grabbed the banner by its long wooden handle.

  The skeletal hand released its grip. The banner was mine!

  You have retrieved your banner!

  Amara slammed into me with her mount sending me sprawling to the ground. The banner popped out of my grasp and skidded across the platform where it stopped, standing straight up like a flag pole.

  Your banner had been dropped!

  I had it! I touched it! Why didn't it get returned?

  But Amara would not give me pause to think through this annoying new conundrum. She dropped from her horse and attacked me with her sword.

  I got to my feet just in time to parry her swings, which were fast and savage. Her face was scrunched with rage.

  “You FILTERED FILTERED!” she screamed swinging at me.

  So fierce was her attack, I couldn't even counter with my own. It took everything I had to parry her swings.

  “You need a more original vocabulary,” I said between her strikes. A glance told me where the banner was. But why hadn't it returned? Was I suppose to do something?

  Thirty Second Warning!

  She angled herself between me and the banner. I had the frightening realization she was at full health, and my own was now less than twenty percent. Arrows and spears had taken their toll.

  “This whole thing should have been finished at the start,” she said and launched into a quick succession of attacks.

  She pushed me back so fast, I had to somersault backward over the altar.

  Landing on the other side, I asked, “What the heck do you want with my quest item? It's mine! I worked for it, not you.”

  Amara marched around the altar but I moved the other way. For several moments she chased me in circles.

  I wanted to laugh, or would have if the game wasn't about to end.

  Twenty Second Warning!

  “The banner is worth a fortune on the auction house,” Amara said, trying to catch me. “It's worth more to me than to you, FILTERED.”

  Beyond her I could see Grax and the Fire Treant locked in each other's grasp. Fire danced over Grax's body. Even the arrows sticking out of his back were on fire. Both were bellowing at each other with deafening roars.

  “When I win this,” I said, “I'll buy you a dictionary.”

  Suddenly, Grax dropped his flaming log-club and, while holding the Fire Treant close with the other hand, drove his fist into the Treant's mouth.

  “You're just going to buy your way to the nearest crypt in a second. This game is mine!” Amara said, trying to get close. She was unaware of what was happening with her champion.

  Grax yanked something out of the Treant's mouth that looked like a wooden heart. The Tree champion's flames intensified, then sputtered, and went out.

  Ten Second Warning!

  “Doesn't look good for your friend,” I said with a nod over her shoulder.

  Amara blinked in momentary confusion and, as she turned impulsively to look, I made a break for the banner.

  Amara screamed and chased after me. As I passed her, she struck out and sliced my right leg.

  A warning on my screen told me that leg was now useless. I sprawled to the ground but my momentum took me within reach of the banner.

  I grabbed it with my free hand.

  You have retrieved your banner!

  Five Second Warning!

  Amara descended on me, bringing her sword down with a heavy swing.

  From the ground, I barely deflected the blow. The tip of her blade sliced my abdomen.

  Four Seconds!

  I tried to scramble to my feet, but another swing from Amara kept me down as I blocked it. She was screaming like a maniac.

  Three Seconds!

  Then I realized what I needed to do. The banner didn't just need to be removed from the a
ltar. It had to be taken off the platform, too!

  Abandoning my own defense, I clutched the banner close to me with one hand and, dismissing my sword, used the other to crawl/fall backward to the edge of the platform which was only a few paces away.

  Amara stayed close and slashed my left thigh.

  Two Seconds!

  My health was now at five percent and one leg refused to cooperate. Still, I managed to twist my body around and throw myself toward the platform's edge.

  One Second!

  With both arms outstretched, I slid along the platform on my side like sliding into home plate. The bottom end of the banner's wooden handle slipped over the very edge of the platform to touch the dirt outside it.

  The banner vanished.

  Your banner has been returned to base!

  But I didn't have time to process this, let alone celebrate. I looked up as Amara loomed over me.

  I saw the briefest image: Amara bringing her sword down upon me, eyes wild with rage. And towering behind Amara was Grax, the ogre's clothes and hair aflame. He, too, was swinging his flaming log-club downward, but at Amara's head.

  Then my view-screen went black, and a message appeared.

  You have been slain in battle!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  My heart was racing and sweat cloyed at my skin beneath my simulation suit.

  I felt jubilation at recovering my banner having no clue what had been required to do so. This only strengthened my resolve to play Battle Fields more often and perhaps study guides on military strategy.

  Now I can see why Thorm became so addicted to them. Those last few moments fighting at the platform were some of the most intense I'd experienced playing this game in years. There were previous tough encounters, but not quite like that.

  And I hoped there would be many more.

  My thoughts went to Amara. She'd used that flaky hologram trick as a weak ploy to buy her time while she fetched the Flame Treant champion. And it worked, too.

  Was Grax okay? Before dying, I didn't get the chance to see if more enemy units were racing toward the platform. As far as I knew, he was the only one left standing after all that fighting.

  But as the blackness of my screen brightened to reveal me laying in the crypt, my attention shifted from my wounded champion to my wounded Keep.

  The map revealed that the enemy troll grunts, backed by archers, had attacked the base. The Keep was damaged to just under half its hit points.

  Thankfully, both the footmen and archers I set to training had emerged to stop the assault.

  Now, both forces were entangled in a ferocious fight. Even down in the crypt I could hear the clashing of weapons and screams of the dying.

  Amara Frostwalker has been reborn to the world. Let the Battle continue!

  I felt a little sense of victory knowing Amara had been squashed like a bug by Grax. But when I looked at my combat log, I'd only received 100 Battle Points for her death, while she got 1,000 for mine.

  It had to be because I wasn't the one who killed her. Whatever. I'll take it for now and hope to come across another champion to spend it on.

  I leapt from the slab and raced up the stairs. Emerging from the floor of the Keep revealed the damage which had already been done. Huge cracks webbed the walls and black smoke filled the upper ceiling.

  But even through this I saw the Lookout wave down at me, then disappear.

  Not wasting another moment, I raced outside.

  Troll grunts lunged at footmen who parried and countered. My human archers had taken up position to one side of the archery range and fired volleys at the troll archers standing a short distance to the north.

  I judged the strength of both forces to be about even. But now I joined the fray.

  Striking out at the nearest troll, I dodged a spear jab by rolling to the ground. Standing, I thrust my sword up through the jaw of another troll.

  A flashing icon on the map drew my eyes. It was Grax asking for new orders.

  What was I doing? Other things needed my immediate attention right now. Fighting would come second. My men could handle this for a few more moments.

  I ran through the fight to stand in the doorway of the Keep, mindful of arrant arrows and spears.

  Grax appeared severely injured, but alive.

  “I need more trolls to crush,” he told me from the chat view. His hair and eyebrows were all gone, burnt away. Wisps of smoke curled up from his blackened flesh.

  With a laugh, I said, “Don't worry, there will be more trolls. I promise.”

  He peered about, somewhat disappointed. “Now what shall I do?”

  Good question. Bringing him south to the base would be helpful. He could help guard while I repaired the buildings and built up another army.

  But that would leave the platform undefended. Right now, with Grax there, it was in my control. Even if Amara managed to sneak down here and snatch the banner away again, she'd have a burnt, angry Grax to contend with when she reached the middle.

  Also, without a scout or other unit in the vicinity, Grax could see what was coming from the north. And maybe keep them from moving further south just by his presence.

  It wouldn't last long. He was injured and alone now. But as a temporary stopgap it'd have to do.

  “Guard the platform. If a solo unit is dumb enough to try to cross it take them out. But if there is more than you can handle, fall back, and come to the base.”

  Grax frowned. “I can handle all units. No problem. I hope I don't have to wait too long.”

  I hoped we got to wait a long time and closed the chat. Time was needed now to get things in order.

  The sound of the surrounding battle brought my thoughts back to the immediate situation. I went into the command menu and put another footmen and archer unit into training. Thankfully, my workers had been diligently mining away this entire time so gold was not an issue. But it soon would be.

  With a final check of the map, I then launched into the fray, sword swinging.

  In less than a minute, I helped my footmen eliminate the last of the grunts. Then we ran at the archers who managed a single volley before my forces cut into them.

  One archer managed to hit me in the thigh which only ticked me off. More sword swings (and a little swearing) and the archers were decimated.

  I looked around. The remaining men of my two units raised their weapons in a cheer.

  “Yay for us,” I said, but didn't feel it. There was too much to do. Right now, Amara was frantically building up an army, and I had little doubt she would make it sizable before marching south.

  I assigned the footman to the banner altar. They would not move from there ever again if I had anything to say about it.

  The archers, I sent north along the western curve to link up with Grax. I ordered the unit leader to assemble in a double line formation on the south edge of the platform. That way, they could support Grax when he engaged any approaching units.

  It wasn't much but still better than nothing.

  Then I turned my attention to my poor beleaguered Keep, which billowed smoke from every opening.

  Keep: 2,200 / 10,000 hit points.

  Those enemy units had really done a number on it, but thankfully they didn't succeed in razing it to the ground.

  For this, I pulled one unit of workers off mining duty and assigned them to Keep repairs. It would be very expensive and repairing it fully would take too long and take up too many resources. So I resolved to bring it up to 5,000 hit points, at least.

  With the workers on repairs I looked around. Other than waiting for units to finish training, and gold to be mined, there wasn't much else I could do but wait.

  So I did.

  Once the footmen and archer units emerged I sent them both north together with orders to guard the platform.

  While I controlled the middle, I didn't have to worry about enemy units suddenly appearing at the base.

  Another archer unit went into training, but instead of another
footmen unit I chose a scout next, on a whim.