by Galen Wolf
What can I say? I yell up. ‘Just peachy.’
Cuthbert calls, ‘Great. Me and Fitheach are going to take a tower each. We’ll shoot at them from up here. When they get to contact, let the Jabberwock go.’
‘The Jabberwock?’
‘Are you deaf or stupid?’
‘Neither.’
‘Then just do what I tell you.’
It seems that war hasn’t improved St Cuthbert’s grumpiness.
More arrows. They hit one of our guys, but it’s not serious. We’re well lodged in here. I glance round and see the ancient, lichen covered gravestones behind us. This was once a peaceful place.
I hear the twang of many enemy bowstrings and more arrows fly through the air.
‘Corporal. Use shields.’ I call and I raise my own shield to protect Spirit and myself. The spearmen raise their shields and the arrows splash uselessly against them. The Holy Rollers have the image of the red dragon emblazoned on their shield — my King’s arms. I feel a swell of pride as we shelter from another rain of arrows. Fitheach and Cuthbert seem to be clearing the air of enemies from their rooftop perch. They’ve taken a corner of the roof each and are protected at least in part by stonework.
The enemy aren’t going to get very far like this, just shooting at us; we’re too dug in. They’ll need to send in their grunts. And as if on cue, I see the enemy line advancing. Beyond them the undead are now on the beach. I see at the very back a figure on a skeleton horse. He’s glowing with black and red energy. This must be their general, Lazarus the Undying.
The hobgoblins advance relentlessly toward us. Now I see rays of light spear down from the church rooftop behind and incinerate the hobgoblin spears, but the gaps are soon filled. Then enemy wolf riders come from the far shore, pushing round the last undead on the causeway. They pause briefly to form up on the beach then they come rapidly forward, covering ground at a great rate. They’ll try to flank us.
An almighty roar goes up from the hobgoblins and they charge, running to close over the last few yards.
‘Brace for impact!’ I yell to the corporal and hear the crunch and crash as our guys pull tight their shieldwall. With shrieks and yells the first enemy hit home, running and jumping up at the wall and trying to get over. They don’t.
I’m proud of our boys as they withstand the assault. They are outnumbered but not yet defeated. I glance to my right and I see a ray of light shoot from the roof and hit a wolf rider. There’s a big troop of them coming round wide, trying to get behind the church and come round on our rear when we’re engaged with the spears to the front.
I need to go there. Then Cuthbert yells down, ‘Let the Jabberwock go.’
I look at the big beat in puzzlement. He’s not tied up. As I look at the Jabberwock, the Jabberwock looks questioningly at me. He’s a vegetarian for heaven’s sake. I shrug and say, ‘Go.’
The great reptile nods as if he understands. He throws back his head and gives the sky-shattering shriek I heard when I first came to the island. And the enemy pause.
The Jabberwock looks around him as the hobgoblins resume fighting again, then he spots the wolf riders, flanking us. Like a velociraptor, he sprints across to them and shrieking and roaring rips into the enemy. He tosses them like a terrier tossing rats and drags the goblin riders from the wolves and slaughters the wolves with his razor claws. I’ve never seen anything kill things so fast.
He doesn’t eat them. But he kills them sure enough.
But to my left I see the enemy is putting a dent in our spearmen. I hear the crunching and grunting of battle as they try to break our line. As the Jabberwock destroys the wolf riders to my right, I spur Spirit forward and go to hack at the back of the hobgoblins. I kill one, two three, but there are lots more. My xp ticks up, only a little for each one.
Then the dwemmers fire at me. Their arrows bounce off my armour, but they’re hurting Spirit. I turn him. We’re going to need to clear these first. I charge and we power across the ground until we pile into the enemy archers, knocking them flying, killing them with sword and hoof and scattering the rest. My blood is up. They’ve hurt my horse. I yell, ‘For my God and King!’ and I’m after them. They are nothing to me. I am the reaper.
And I get my level.
That means I can choose to be a Paladin or a Baron. But not quite yet. I follow the archers, but too late I turn to see our spearmen break and flee, the enemy hobgoblins killing them as they run. They also kill Fitheach’s mare Láireog that was tethered just behind our spearmen.
I pull Spirit round. The Jabberwock is tossing enemies around like rag dolls. But our infantry are gone. A beam of silver shoots down from the rooftop and heals Spirit. Thanks Fitheach.
Then a stinking beam of green necrotic energy shoots out and hits the Jabberwock. He roars in pain and I see he’s badly hurt. But he’s not bleeding, the flesh has gone gangrenous and rotten, but there’s no blood, only pus.
The necrotic beam came from Lazarus the Undying. He sits there on his dead horse, preparing to fire again and kill the Jabberwock.
Just then the enemy artillery resumes firing and a huge flaming boulder smashes into the church, cracking the wall and causing masonry to fall from the roof.
The litch fires again. He hurts the Jabberwock, but the beast sees its enemy and runs across the field, trampling spearmen or killing them casually as it runs. It’s set on Lazarus. And that means I must be too. I need its blood.
I get my lance and charge. We smash through the zombie line and are going hell for leather as Lazarus sees me and turns. In his hand he brandishes a bone sword. He lifts his hand and from his pale finger, he fires his beam at me instead of at the Jabberwock.
Then I hit him.
My lance pierces him, but I don’t get Doublestrike or any other juicy skill to trigger. I draw my sword and hit him just as he blasts me again.
I’m down to 300 health. One more and I’m dead. But my Dropsy skill has worked and Lazarus fumbles his bone sword. I see his skull face with his burning eyes of blue fire. He doesn’t talk but raises his hand. I lunge at him but he blocks my blow. Then the Jabberwock leaps at him, knocking him and his skeleton horse over.
I take the opportunity to heal and a vampire officer attacks me. I chop at the thing and Doublestrike this time, one of them is a crit and the thing dies for 200xp.
The lich is rising to his feet while the Jabberwock darts forward and bites him. It kills the undead around it with its claws almost as an afterthought.
There’s a massive crash behind me and I see they’ve hit the church again. Even the fastest glance over my shoulder tells me the building is going down with the next hit. I can’t see Fitheach or Cuthbert but I hope they’re safe. I hope Henry and Bessie are safe too, but there’s not much I can do about it right now.
Spirit steps forward as we hack our way through zombies to get to the litch and the Jabberwock. The Jabberwock bites again at the litch, and claws at him in a frenzy, but he’s hit it, I can smell the stink of rotten flesh from here. Then Lazarus hits it again and the Jabberwock throws back its head and screams its death cry.
It dies. No blood. The Jabberwock is dead, but it didn’t bleed a drop.
Frustration and anger power my sword as I lean over and hack the Litch. I don’t crit and I don’t Doublestrike but the Jabberwock has weakened him so much that it only takes that one blow.
But I’d rather the Jabberwock had lived. More undead surge toward us. Their general has died, but they have other officers and they must know they’re winning. There’s no point me dying here. Fitheach and Cuthbert might need my help back at the church.
I gallop back towards the church, and watch as another projectile slams into it, bringing the front wall crashing down. If the
saints were on the roof, they’re dead. I just hope they aren’t.
My heart is heavy. The only comfort is that they didn’t get the Jabberwock blood either.
There are other enemy player characters among their army. I don’t know them, but I watch with horror as a necromancer casts a spell and the earth of the church graveyard erupts. Within seconds, more undead are digging themselves out of the ground. I divert right, and Spirit jumps over a group of zombies so we can get to the church door quicker.
As we arrive at the church a raggle-taggle of enemy are milling around but I easily deal with them. I even kill an enemy Level 10 Heretic for 400xp.
Cuthbert and Fitheach emerge from the church door, their white robes covered in dirt and blood. They’re carrying something. Each of them has an old looking wooden box enfolded in their arms. ‘Let’s go,’ Cuthbert yells and starts running. Fitheach follows him.
I remember Henry and Bessie. I shout, ‘Cuthbert, where are our mules?’
The saint stops for a second and turns, his arms full with his box, and points behind one of the stone houses. There’s a small paddock there. I gallop over and see Henry looking worried. Beside him is his beloved Bessie. Henry says, ‘Man, Gorrow. I never thought I’d say it, but I sure am pleased to see you.’
I frown. ‘What do you mean — you never thought you’d say it?’ But before he gives an answer, three hobgoblins appear and rush at us. I deal with them easily but they usefully smash down the wooden rail as I kill them.
I look and see Cuthbert and Fitheach are running down the path away from the enemy. They’re not waiting for us either. ‘Come on,’ I say to Henry who doesn’t need to be told twice and then we’re galloping after Cuthbert.
We catch them at the small harbour. From the noises behind, the enemy is smashing down the village and looting what they can. Here in the harbour, sailors are loosening mooring ropes. Both the fishing boats and the cargo boat are ready to sail.
‘On board.’ Cuthbert’s pointing at the cargo boat. I dismount and hurriedly follow Fitheach and lead Spirit and the two mules aboard.
‘We need to call at Joyous Guard to pick up Elizabeth Bathory,’ Fitheach says.
‘Okay,’ I reply but I’m watching Cuthbert and looking at the two wooden boxes the saints have brought aboard. We set sail and the sailors row us out of the anchorage before the sails flutter and begin to catch the wind. We’re about a hundred yards off shore and there’s nobody following us. I look to Cuthbert who’s standing in the stern with a look of sadness and defeat on his grimy face.
As we watch the air fizzles and the wholesome atmosphere is replaced by the black and red haze of enemy control. That’s the whole north in their hands now. Apart from Silver Drift that is.
Cuthbert is crying. ‘I’m gonna make them pay for that, the bastards.’ Fitheach puts his arm round his friend’s shoulder. If he hasn’t guessed already, I don’t have the heart to tell him our quest has failed too.
Sailing South
We’re half a mile from the island and the sails are full, taking us south. Behind us the island is going up in smoke. It looks like they’ve set fire to every building there. Cuthbert turns, shakes his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘That’s that then. Poor old Jabberwock.’
‘We need to go right to pick up Elizabeth Bathory from the ruins of Joyous Guard. I promised her,’ I say.
‘Your evil friend?’ Cuthbert says with a frown. ‘I’m not much in the mood for giving lifts to evil characters right now.’
‘She’s not evil any longer,’ Fitheach says.
‘Whatever.’
I say, ‘I did promise her we’d pick her up. We can’t leave her there.’
Cuthbert studies me and it’s hard to read his expression. Finally, he gives out an order to the helmsman. ‘Head starboard now for the harbour under Joyous Guard.’
The broken ruins of the ancient fortress stand on the cliff above us. I crane my neck to look up and take them in. I never saw it in its glory days, but it sure was a mighty place once, even as a ruin it has an atmosphere.
I see I’m still in a party with Elizabeth so I send.
Gorrow: We’re coming into the harbour below the castle. Can you make your way down?
Elizabeth: Will do. On my way.
I see a long straight staircase cut in the cliff wall that leads up from a neglected stone jetty below the castle. Grey waves break over the jetty as we get closer, the sail flapping noisily behind us and the mews of gulls ringing in our ears.
As we watch the dark figure of Elizabeth, Bathory becomes visible making her way gingerly from the top. I guess the steps are slippery with weed and breaking waves, worse as she gets lower. She’s left her horse behind; it wouldn’t have made it down these steps and I hope she let it run free.
Eventually she comes to the jetty and runs along to where we’re moored. She’s half smiling. ‘Thanks,’ she says, stopping to look at me. Fitheach bows. As she comes to the boat, Cuthbert doesn’t try to help her on board.
‘Fangs of Koth,’ he says indicating her guild insignia on her armour.
‘Ex,’ she says.
‘You’re still wearing guild insignia,’ he says.
She smiles. ‘I don’t think they’ll let me join the Knights of the Round Table, or the Holy Brothers. At least not yet for a while.’
‘You should quit the guild,’ Cuthbert says.
I hadn’t focused on this before. I do now. ‘Best had,’ I say. ‘It’s not like you’re going to be much use as a spy now they’ve tracked you all this way with us.’
‘Fine,’ she says and instantly, the red guild insignia vanish from her armour.
‘Good,’ Cuthbert says, then turns and gives his attention to the crew. Fitheach extends a hand and helps Elizabeth on board.
Cuthbert says, ‘Can we leave now?’ I see his eyes wander north where Lindisfarne is still burning, the palls of smoke rising high in the sky before they’re dissipated by the wind.
‘Of course.’
‘Where do you want us to go next? I’m homeless currently, so I don’t have any particular place in mind.’
‘You’ll want to get to the King.’
Cuthbert nods. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’
‘On the east coast, the land south of the River Humber is still in King Arthur’s control. I would sail south that far, land and cut overland west making for York maybe.’
‘You talk like you’re not coming with me?’ Cuthbert says.
I shake my head. ‘We need to get back to Silver Drift. So if you could drop us on the coast somewhere, we can cut across.’
‘South of Hellsmouth, I take it?’
Hellsmouth is the biggest city under Satanus’s control this far south. It was once called Jarrow, where St Bede had his monastery. Now they’ve created an infernal settlement and drilled down to hell, letting all manner of demons up from the underworld. We don’t want to be going there.
I nod. ‘South of Hellsmouth. Just find a quiet bay and drop us off.’
We strike out from the harbour of Joyous Guard. The wind is cutting east so we have to tack against it to get well clear of land. The sea is empty, not another vessel in sight as we make our way laboriously south.
Fitheach and I stand with Elizabeth in the bow, staring at the sea. Fitheach says quietly. ‘So our quest failed?’
‘Looks that way.’
‘Still it was worth trying.’
Elizabeth says, ‘So maybe you’ll tell me now what the quest was?’
Fitheach takes an in-breath, preparing to speak but I put my hand on his arm. Cuthbert steps forward. Fitheach turns to him instead. ‘Pity about the Jabberwock.’
Cuthbert’s eyes fill up and he wipes away the tears. ‘He was my friend. I raised him from a baby.’ Then he taps the wooden box with his toe. ‘At least we’ve got these.’
I peer down into the bottom of the boat where there are two old wooden boxes placed there by Fitheach and Cuthbert. ‘What’s in
them?’ I ask.
‘Eggs,’ Cuthbert says. ‘Rare eggs.’
Fitheach smiles. He obviously wasn’t told what he was carrying. ‘I didn’t know you collected eggs, Cuth. When I was a boy, I often used to go bird-nesting…’
Cuthbert cuts him off. ‘Not birds’ eggs. Reptile eggs.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘Jabberwock eggs?’
He taps his nose. ‘A nod’s as good as a wink to a blind horse and what the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve.’
‘I guess both of those may be true. But they’re Jabberwock eggs?’
Cuthbert grins. ‘A full dozen, but don’t you be telling anyone. I would hate for the whole Jabberwock race to go extinct.’
‘How long have you had them?’
‘Game years.’
‘So will they hatch after all this time?’
‘If you put them in a furnace, yes.’
That is the best news I’ve heard all day,’ I’ve got a wide smile on my face. I turn to Fitheach. ‘I thought we’d failed. But now we’ve got a second chance.’
Fitheach nods. ‘All we’ve got to do is hatch an egg and kill the Jabberwock. Better let it grow so it’s big and full of blood before we slaughter it.’
The atmosphere changes like someone just farted. I think Cuthbert’s bushy eyebrows are going to jump right off his head. ‘You what? You damn-well what?’
I wave down his temper, or at least try to. My down facing palm and calm demeanour don’t seem to work too well. ‘I was going to tell you Cuthbert.’
He’s blazing. ‘You abuse my hospitality! You get my island destroyed, and all you wanted to do was to kill my Jabberwock?’
I sigh. ‘The Jabberwock blood is a key ingredient in a crafting recipe that’s going to give King Arthur the victory.’
‘Or the enemy if they get hold of the Jabberwock blood first,’ Fitheach says.
Cuthbert is raging. ‘Get off my ship. Now.’ He points to the waves.
‘We’re a long way from shore now, Cuth,’ Fitheach says. ‘Anyway, you don’t really want us to jump into the sea.’
