by Greg Curtis
Finally though Sam felt the shield give way. It was the imp's cue to attack as one and they streaked toward him and the unconscious woman at his feet. But it was also his cue to attack. Even as the masses of imps began their charge he released the shape holding the spinning ice shards and watched as they shot out in all directions like arrows.
It worked perfectly. The imps and the ice shards met head on, and in the blink of an eye the imps were reduced to piles of bloodied meat as they fell lifeless to the ground. Not a single one escaped despite their ability to confound magic, because he'd used such a directionless spell. No matter how they tried to alter the trajectory of the ice shards with their magic, there were still too many, and at least one was always going to hit.
“Yes!” Sam pumped his fist in delight, as the light of the illumination spell revealed at least a hundred imp bodies surrounding him and the woman. He could still see bodies lying dead at a distance of seventy or eighty yards, and there were no live imps any further out. Not that he could see that far, but his magical senses told him that. He knew that he and the woman had passed the first barrier between them and freedom from this place, and he was more than happy. Better yet, he wasn't even tired. If need be he could repeat this attack all night long when he hoped the imps would leave as sunlight burned them. Then again, that was assuming this place had a morning, or a sun. Somehow he doubted it.
But perhaps he'd celebrated too soon? He realised that the moment he heard the sound of thunder in the distance and knew it was not the sign of a storm coming. Not when the thunder was in the ground. This was the thunder made by heavy feet. Hundreds of them marching out of step. And they were all marching in his direction. He knew they weren't friends.
Even as he wondered what new monster was coming, Sam saw the first of them coming into view, and tried not to cringe. Stone trolls. Where the hell had stone trolls come from? They lived in mountains not deserts, and they didn't like the dark or fire. But he didn't have time to wonder about the wrongness of it all. He had to prepare to fight, and to fight hard.
Stone trolls were tough opponents. Their rock skin absorbed almost all blows from weapons with ease and most magic attacks, particularly fire. Moreover they were stubborn, and once they attacked they wouldn't stop. Fortunately they were both slow and stupid. It was his only edge. Especially when he couldn't take advantage of their slowness to run away, because even if he didn't have the woman to carry off as well, they – like the imps before them – were coming from all sides. There was no direction to run in.
He quickly decided that the best weapon against them would be their own weight, and without even thinking about it he sent out a ripple of earth magic that liquefied the ground around. It still looked like dirt, but anything that tried to cross it would soon find itself swimming. And stone trolls to the best of his knowledge, couldn't swim.
His plan of course depended on the stone trolls not realising the land ahead of them was fluid. They weren't bright, but seeing the trolls in front of them sinking out of sight might be a give away even for another troll. Fortunately the fire and ice fog shape gave him a way out of that. It was an expensive spell in terms of magic and required intense concentration. It required the spell caster to hold both fire and ice together but separate, while keeping the ground liquid, but it was the only way he could create a truly thick fog.
Focussing first on turning the ground around the perimeter of the liquid earth into a frozen waste, Sam then fired an array of flame shards directly into the ice. The result was everything he'd hoped for as the two magics collided and exploded, creating a blinding fog that quickly enveloped the land all around them.
Maybe thirty heartbeats later he listened to the first of the trolls, already stumbling around in the fog and fighting one another, fall into the liquefied ground with a splash. Due to their weight he hoped they would sink all the way to the bottom. It was about twenty feet or so and without any way out there fate was likely to drown. Not a particularly nice way to die, but then stone trolls weren't particularly nice creatures.
“Hanor!” Sam bellowed out his family war cry. Having waited for far too long and heard only a few dozen splashes, Sam began to wonder how many of the trolls were still outside the liquefied earth. But he figured if there was one thing that would bring a troll running through fog, it was the sound of its prey. And so Sam called out to them, magically enhancing the sound with the feel of prey trying to elude them. He was right and a few heartbeats later he began to hear an increasing number of splashes as more and more of the trolls fell in.
It was just as well, since it was becoming difficult to maintain the earth spell along with the fire and ice fog. But in time, as the sound of splashing became less frequent even when he repeated his cry, and he knew he'd caught most of them and let all the spells go.
It had been hard work holding all those separate magics together and Sam took a few moments to recover. While he did so he watched closely as the fog lifted to reveal a once more mostly empty darkened plain.
Still, more of the imps had appeared in the distance, and even as far away as they were he could feel the illumination spell he'd shaped dissipating, and realised as he stared into the distance that they were slowly undoing its order. Soon he would no longer be able to see them. But he decided however, that there was no point in trying to maintain it against them. The torches afforded enough light that he could see them when they got close, and he couldn't afford to waste his strength trying to maintain it against them.
It was just as well since a little while later he saw the first of the reddish glows that he knew meant trouble. Fire spawn. Imps and spawn both – that was all he needed! Worse yet, he realised they were working together. The imps were degrading his spells, while the spawn attacked. And the imps were far enough off that they didn't need to fear his ice shard attack this time.
For the first time Sam felt despair as he realised a pattern was forming. The attackers were becoming more powerful and smarter with every raid, while he was slowly but surely being drained of strength. While there was no logical reason for it, he knew that when he had defeated these assailants, another even stronger group would come, and then another after them. Sooner or later he would lose. He didn't need the blood trickling down his cheek to tell him what would happen then.
Regardless he had to try. With fire spawn he knew there was only one recognised magical attack that could work; ice shears. The spawn had their own fire magic, and so were resistant to any but the most powerful spells. Worse, their scaly skin was nearly as tough as the stone of the rock trolls – a blast of ice shards would only scratch them. But most troubling of all, once they got close enough they could launch fireballs at him and his charge. And with the imps so near, he couldn't maintain a proper ice shield against them for too long. They would undermine it.
His only hope therefore was to attack the spawn with the shears at a much greater range than he would normally, and hope that the effort didn't wipe him out.
Using every ounce of concentration he could muster Sam began sucking the fire out of the air and freezing the water vapour in it into a pair of circular shears, each about five yards wide. That was the easy part. Next he had to propel the shears at the spawn, still three or four hundred yards away, in a perfectly executed scything motion. Fire of course was the only way to do it, and using the shape of a flaming arrow he set the ice shears in motion, the top one leading the bottom one by a foot.
Twisting where he stood, he began spinning like a top, always facing the shears as if they were on the end of a rope, while trying not to let his natural dizziness interfere with the spells. Then, as if the shears were tied to him, he slowly let them move further and further away from him.
Five perhaps six turns later the shears were at least two hundred yards from him, and though he was now only spinning slowly, at that distance they were moving faster than an arrow. Another four turns and they were three hundred yards away from him. It was at that point that he felt the first i
mpact as they touched the closest spawn. It worked perfectly as the leading shear sliced through the main body of the lizard like creature, while the lower ice shear severed its legs. And then as the shears turned the lower shear became the leading shear, as the top one tracked it like a blood hound.
In the next rotation he felt three more of the spawn meet the icy death he had planned, their fire magic and scaly skin no match for the sharpness of the shears. But at the same time he could feel the effect of the imps on the shears, as it became harder and harder to control them. The shears no longer wanted to fly their spherical dance of death. But Sam held them together – just – and in two more rotations another thirty or so of the spawn met their end. And that, as far as he could tell, was that. He couldn't see any more of the glowing red lights that warned of their presence. But the imps were still out there. Armed with the power of flight, they had never been in danger from the shears.
For a few moments Sam stood there, breathing deeply; trying with his most sensitive nature magic to work out where the imps were. He couldn't see them in the dark now that the illumination spell had largely failed, and he was worried they might take advantage of his tiredness to attack anew. But they weren't that brave he discovered, as he eventually found them roughly four hundred yards away. Nor did they need to be. They could wait.
Having been given a chance to breathe, Sam took advantage of the time to refocus himself. Fear, as the saying went, was a mind killer. It also undermined concentration, and a wizard who couldn't concentrate wasn't a wizard. As he stood there collecting his wits about him, he could feel the sweat slowly dripping off him, running down his armour, and collecting in a puddle by his feet. But he paid it no attention. Losing sweat was normal. It was losing blood that he had to worry about.
Sadly it wasn't long before he felt the next menace on the horizon. In fact it was far too soon. But this one was different. It wasn't a horde as he'd expected. His heightened nature magic told him that there was only one creature. But it was big. Very big. Something that thought of him as dinner. He couldn't see it yet, but he knew through his magic that it could see him, and even now it was sizing him up as a meal. Make that a snack. He wasn't big enough to make a meal.
It didn't take long for the creature to decide he was as tempting as he looked, and a heartbeat later, Sam felt it coming toward him. Coming fast. And he still couldn't see it. Against an unknown assailant flying at him Sam had to rely on his strongest attacking spell – the fire ball – and hope that the creature wasn't resistant to fire or able to dodge. Sam concentrated on building one as powerful and tight as he could while he waited for it to arrive.
The instant he saw the creature's glowing red eyes flying at him, Sam let it go in a single powerful throw. It was a good, clean shot, and he watched as it flew faster than any arrow directly at the red eyes. He didn't even have time to be nervous. Not then anyway.
The strike was everything he'd wanted, and the explosion when it came lit up the night sky as though it was daylight. But what it revealed was not what he'd expected. He'd thought some sort of demon perhaps. Maybe another fire magic monster. But this was a dozen times worse. As the fire slowly dissipated and the creature once more came into view, he saw its sinuous head and knew he hadn't done enough. He'd knocked it out of the sky, but he hadn't really harmed it at all.
It was a drake. Probably a fire breathing, nightmare drake. Nearly the size of a dragon, but much more savage, he knew no fireball was going to stop it. The creature had its own fire magic. Even as he watched the creature was getting up, barely stunned.
Time! That he suddenly realised was what he needed. He needed time to prepare. No sooner had he realised it then he knew how to get it. Before the drake had a chance to again take to the air, Sam liquefied the ground beneath it, and watched with some pleasure as the creature suddenly sank and screamed in shock. Of course it instantly began to try and reach for the sky. Drakes had fast reactions, but in this instance not fast enough. Even as he saw the drake beginning to rise Sam solidified the ground around it, trapping the drake's legs. It wouldn't hold for long. The creature was tough and strong even without its fire magic, and it would soon escape its stone prison. Already he could see dust rising around its haunches as it fought against the stone's embrace.
He just hoped it was long enough.
But long enough for what? Against a drake, most magic was next to useless. All it did was generally make the creatures angry. He had read that the fabled ice mountain spell could hold it. But with imps around, eroding at the spell even as he shaped it? That did not bode well. They would undo every magical shape he could cast. First he had to get rid of the imps.
With so many of them around and all of them as far away as they were there was only one spell he knew that would work. The fire ring. The one time he had tried it however, the effort had left him exhausted for days. Now he had to form the fire ring once more? In this place? Still, it didn't seem that he had a choice. He would worry about whether he had any strength to form the ice mountain spell after that. And after that he just had to hope that there weren't any more creatures coming.
He began drawing every ounce of fire he could find around him. Drawing it from the torches, the heat in the ground and even the sky. Soon the temperature all around began to plummet. But he didn't care. It only mattered that he had enough. Once he did Sam began shaping the ring into his hands just as he had before, all the time keeping a close eye on the drake as it continued trying to tearing its way loose. Pieces of stone were already flying around. Soon those pieces would be large chunks. And shortly after that he would be lunch. He didn't have much time.
Despite his haste and distraction, the fire ring quickly grew in his hands. In fact it grew even more quickly than it had when he'd first shaped the spell, and in less than a few score heartbeats he could feel the power surging as it tried to pull his hands together, straining to be released.
Enough. Sam knew by then that he had gathered as much fire into his spell as he ever could. He was right on the edge of losing control. And if that happened he would lose his life in the process. It was time for the hard part.
Slowly, or as slowly as he could when the magic pushed so hard, he brought his hands together, feeling the ring shaping around his head with every inch closer they came. Then in a sudden rush they touched, not as smoothly as they had the first time, but then the fire coursing through his hands was far greater than before and he was far more tired.
For a few incredibly long heartbeats it was all he could do just to release the fire as smoothly as he could into the ring circling above his head without releasing his life with it. It was beyond difficult and pushed him to the very edge of his strength as he strained with every fibre of his being to keep it from exploding between his hands. But then in a glorious instant it was done and he released it and he thanked the All Father as he watched it leave him that he had survived. Again.
But even as he fell to his knees in reaction, he couldn't help but admire the magnificence of the ring. This one was even more powerful than before. Instead of a raging fire wall racing away from him faster than an arrow, this was a towering inferno at least fifty yards high, and it raced away from him like a stampeding heard of bison. The imps didn't stand a chance. In fact even the drake was likely to be badly hurt he thought.
As it hit the drake, Sam watched the creature scream with impotent fury, as it struggled to free itself. But it still wasn't enough to kill it. Although the ring caused terrible burns to it, after it had passed an angry charcoal coloured drake remained. It was still alive, but it was in terrible pain. He also suspected that the beast had been blinded. Its red eyes had turned as black as the rest of it. Surely its eyes couldn't be as tough as its scales?
Then it was the imps turn and he watched with joy as just like the steel rats before them, they exploded, unable to flee in time. Many had taken to the air as fast as they could when they saw the ring coming, but such was its speed and their poor flying ability that
they couldn't escape its wrath. Even those who had flown upwards of forty or fifty feet exploded in mid-air, and fell to the ground in a fiery rain on their fallen comrades. And they were the ones who were at least half a league away.
But unlike Shavarra, this ring wasn't stopping at such a meagre distance. Instead it carried on, growing ever larger and more deadly and destroying everything in its path. He estimated that it had to have travelled at least a league and a half before it gave out with a fiery wail.
A league and a half of completely safe ground, with only one surviving threat remaining behind, and it was wounded! Sam would have celebrated if he'd had the strength. Instead all he could do was kneel there and survey the destruction around him while trying to catch his breath. The sweat was running off him by the bucket load, he couldn't stop shaking, and no matter what he did he couldn't seem to find enough air to breathe. But he was happy. And he was safe. For the moment.
In time he remembered the threat the drake posed as it continued its insane screaming and to struggle against its rocky prison. Soon it would be free and blind or not, he and his charge would be dinner.
Slowly, as for some reason he couldn't seem to draw the cold any faster, Sam began shaping a prison of ice around the drake. He was finding it hard now, but he kept pushing to build it faster. Every angry roar of the drake encouraged him and the mountain grew surprisingly quickly.
