by Drew Hayes
Pulling his hands up, the elf didn’t so much cast the spell as let it burst free. The blue-white energy surged forward, obliterating the invisibility woven around them without even slowing down. It hurtled through the air, smashing into the dragons’ ward with a horrible sound unlike anything the elf had ever heard. It was as though the very fabric of the universe was screeching in pain as two potent forces of magic clawed against one another to see which survived. Then, it was over, and the elf could see that only flickering remains of the ward lingered where a once impervious wall had stood.
Screams, this time of triumph and command, bubbled up from his surrounding mages, letting the others know that the path ahead was clear. Sparing just a moment of time, the elf glanced upward at the dragons still circling. Their inhuman faces were usually difficult to read, but it was impossible to mistake their surprise and anger at being outsmarted for anything else.
Tired as the elf was, that sight alone almost made it worth the effort.
* * *
The sound was like nothing Eric had ever known. It made his ears ring and filled his eyes with visions of things quickly, and mercifully, forgotten. Yet, terrible as it was, the noise was also beautiful in what it signified. He was moving almost as soon as it ended, feet pounding across the rough ground mere moments before the cheers of triumph began to fill the air. Pumping his legs as hard as he could, Eric threw a quick glance back and realized that he’d far outpaced his friends. In the franticness of the situation, Eric had managed to forget that he was wearing the enchanted boots Elora had gotten him. He slowed his pace, just a touch, and then realized with a start that the others were all moving as a collective mass. Everyone, including Thistle, was keeping up with one another. It was a strangely reassuring sight to watch their paladin moving in lockstep with everyone else, no longer relegated to the back or having to be carried by Grumph.
With one motion, Eric pulled his crossbow free, ready to fire on any dragons that tried to attack him or his friends. Nice a tool as it was, Eric was under no delusions that it would actually be enough to bring down such creatures. No, his best hope would be to draw one’s attention, and then use his new speed to keep out of reach while the others made it to safety. That was Plan B, though. Ideally, they’d all make it through the initial rush and figure out something to do from there.
Keeping a few feet ahead of the others, Eric watched the skies, even as the area around him grew thick with bodies. It seemed they hadn’t been the only adventurers who’d decided to linger in the shadows and wait for an opportunity. More than even his careful eyes had spotted were pouring out from every rocky outcropping and craggy space in the area. Above, the dragons circled, raining down fire as fast as they could, but still not managing to do more than slow small sections of the assault.
It was complete and utter madness, though Eric found he didn’t mind it at all. There was something almost comforting about being so surrounded by other adventurers. Last time he’d seen a mass of them grouped together, Eric had felt like an outsider trying to play a part. Now, he was one of them, and he knew it down to the deepest core of his being. They were in this together, at least for the moment, and that made the challenge seem a little more manageable.
Eric allowed himself to slow a bit more so the others caught up to him completely. There was no point in running ahead now; they were too packed in. Even if he wanted to use his plan to draw fire, he’d never be able to fight his way through the crowd. No, all they could do now was pray that none of the dragons’ random attempts to stop the attack landed on them.
For a moment, it seemed as though their luck would hold. They and the crowd made it up the first initial incline of the mountain to where a half-dozen small paths branched off in different directions. With no idea about the area’s topography, any route was as good a guess as another. Eric made his way down one that ran more sideways than vertical across the mountain. Those climbing higher were getting more attention, so it seemed a safer shot to try and slip by this initial conflict zone and then try and make their way higher. Unfortunately, they were only a couple of steps along that path when the dragon swung into view.
It all happened so fast, Eric couldn’t bring himself to react. The scaly red snout parted, revealing a row of teeth, each sharp as any blade. He could already see the flames gathering inside its throat, about to come pouring out all over them. Eric’s mind whirled, trying desperately to think if anything they had was fireproof.
Not everyone had frozen, however. A pair of daggers flew through the air, farther than any normal knife could have soared. One bounced uselessly off the dragon’s scaly cheek before vanishing but the second whipped past the row of teeth and sank into the roof of the beast’s mouth. While there was no way the attack had adequate power to do any real harm to the dragon, it was startling enough to make the beast shut its mouth in reflex. The blast of flames became a sputter of sparks and smoke that leaked out through the dragon’s shut teeth.
It was a moment of victory, albeit a short-lived one. The dragon glared down at them, its yellow eyes focusing on the one who’d thrown the dagger. Eric raised his crossbow, trying to line up any sort of shot before the inevitable happened, but the dragon was far faster than anything its size had a right to be.
With a single tuck of its wings, it went into a dive, zipping downward. Eric could see the others moving—Timuscor trying to raise his shield in time, Gabrielle positioning her axe, and Grumph tugging on the bag atop his staff. Only Thistle accomplished his reaction in time. The gnome ducked down, exposing his armored back and covering his head. It was a smart move, if they weren’t going up against a damn dragon. The only upside was that he was too small a target to be easily hit by the dragon’s claws. Sadly, the same could not be said for its barbed tail.
The tail whipped through the air, nothing more than a red blur as the dragon swept past, then crashing down on top of Thistle’s small form like it was trying to hammer him into the ground. The clang that rang out made Eric’s heart skip the next few beats. Even if his armor had survived that attack, there was no way it had absorbed enough of the blow to keep Thistle safe. Evidently, the dragon agreed, as it flew upward once more, eyeing a second wave of adventurers just beginning their charge up the mountain.
Eric’s hand was in his bag, digging for potions and praying to any god listening that it wouldn’t be too late. When he arrived, what greeted his eyes was not the spray of blood and viscera of battered gnome he’d been expecting. Instead, he found Thistle slowly pulling himself to his feet, looking shaken but otherwise uninjured. What was more shocking, the armor on his back didn’t have so much as even a scratch left by a dragon’s tail, let alone a massive dent. Eric opened his mouth to ask the first of what would be so many questions, but Thistle shook his head.
“Later. When we’re safe.” With that bare acknowledgment of the miracle that had just taken place, Thistle resumed his race along the mountain path, followed quickly by the others, who were almost all wearing expressions just as shocked as Eric’s. The lone exception was Timuscor’s somber, knowing expression, which only made the situation all the more curious.
Much as he wanted answers, there was nothing to be done for it. With adventurers all around and dragons in the sky, any discussions would have to wait. But they would be happening; Eric would make quite sure of that.
Until then, he hurried forward, crossbow at the ready. At the very least, he wouldn’t let them get taken by surprise again.
Chapter 43
“You inherited the armor of Grumble’s first paladin and didn’t feel the need to share that with us?”
Eric’s voice came out strangled as he worked to keep his tone below a whisper. They’d managed to find a small cave after a half hour of hurriedly racing along the mountain’s side and had agreed that the time had come to lay low. The other adventurers would no doubt press on with more overt attempts to rise up the mountain, but their party was better off taking a path of caution and stealth.
Thistle’s eyes darted over to Grumph, probably hoping for support, but the half-orc merely shook his head. Eric was right to be incredulous. While they’d always given each other space to keep their own secrets, something like this was well out of bounds. Truthfully, Grumph was a little hurt that Thistle had failed to share the secret with even him, which made it all the easier to refuse him support. It was petty perhaps, but Grumph felt he was entitled to at least the occasional vice.
“I felt that perhaps it was best to remain mute on the subject until the full implications were understood,” Thistle said finally. “So far as I knew, it was simply a very old set of armor that magically reshaped itself to the wearer and rebuffed most others who attempted to claim it.”
“You left out the part where it protected you from a direct attack from a dragon,” Gabrielle reminded him.
“Information I didn’t have earlier on. And besides, it was a young dragon.” Thistle scooted back and leaned his head against a small formation of rocks. Though he was putting on a brave front, Thistle hadn’t escaped the blow entirely unscathed. Grumph was sure that if they pulled back the armor, they would see bruising up and down his crooked back. Still, compared to what the strike should have done, that was a paltry souvenir of the encounter.
“Listen... I don’t know specifically why I didn’t tell you. Probably because I knew the questions you’d want to ask me—the same ones I’ve been wrestling with myself—and I simply don’t have any answers,” Thistle told them. “Does this armor come with another duty or destiny? Does it mean Grumble has some special plan for me? Was it truly as simple as a thank-you gift from a fellow paladin? What, exactly, can it do? And that’s merely scratching the surface. At present, the only thing we know for certain is that it’s old, magical, and durable but not invincible.”
“Looked pretty invincible to me,” Eric muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
Thistle tapped his breastplate gently enough to not produce sound but firmly enough to make sure everyone could see the spot he was gesturing to. There, right in the middle, was a small discoloration in the metal. “Before it reformed, the armor had a hole right here in the center. It’s where a sword was driven through, past all the protections and into the first owner’s heart. I saw it happen in a vision Grumble sent me in Briarwillow. Now, while we may have no idea what sort of enchantments were on that blade, at the very least this scar is a good reminder that the armor is not invincible. No magic is. For every enchantment, there’s something else out there more powerful or wily that can see it undone. While I’m certainly thankful that this can withstand a tail strike from a young dragon, I’m not going to be so foolhardy as to start thinking myself invulnerable to harm.”
“I suppose the armor wouldn’t have been much help against a dragon’s fire.” Eric seemed somewhat mollified, if still not happy about being kept in the dark.
“Speaking of which, I don’t think anyone has congratulated you on that throw yet,” Gabrielle said. “Nice aim, Thistle.”
The gnome bowed his head in thanks, then touched two of the four daggers strapped to his chest. “A few well-crafted enchantments, and they flew as though there was no weight at all. What a difference magic makes.”
That was certainly an understatement. Grumph had seen all of them getting used to their new abilities—Eric moving faster than he realized, Gabrielle leaving small cracks in the ground when she reacted too quickly, Timuscor’s relentless constitution despite the weight of his armor, and Thistle’s ability to keep up with the others. Grumph was almost positive he’d been the only one to catch the unmitigated joy on Thistle’s face during the first part of the charge, the almost childlike wonder at doing something as simple as keeping pace with his friends.
It certainly wasn’t as though Grumph couldn’t feel the effects as well. His own armor had given him an extra layer of security, and that was nothing compared to the power emanating from his staff. Grumph had been practicing with it for days before they left, meditating and training to truly understand the implement’s abilities. He’d put every gold he could afford into its construction, choosing to get something custom to his needs rather than premade. It had upped the cost considerably, but the result was a staff hardy enough to endure even Grumph’s rough treatment. Plus, it had allowed him to incorporate something special, the element still tucked away beneath the canvas bag. That part was bound to stand out, and there was no sense in drawing any more attention than needed.
“What do we do now?” Timuscor asked, breaking the silence that had settled over their refuge. “I know we have to get higher. I’m just not sure I understand how long we’re supposed to wait here. And when we leave, how do we avoid the dragons?”
“We keep low and silent and hope our luck holds,” Eric said. “Right now, the dragons are chasing the bulk of the adventurers, who are probably going a lot farther up than we did. With the ward on the bottom of the mountain broken and most of the assailants already here, the dragons will fortify higher up, trying to focus on the largest mob of bodies. If we trail behind, we should be able to stay largely unnoticed, since we’ll be hitting sections long after the crowd has broken through.”
“Great plan, except for the fact that we’re trying to get the big prize,” Gabrielle pointed out. “Kind of hard to do that if we’re the last ones to the treasure vault.”
Thistle shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position to rest his back. “You’re both right, in a way. Eric’s plan is sound for at least the first part of our journey. As we rise higher, however, I’d wager the number of adventurers will decline, and rather steeply at that. Some will fall in battle, others will find small caches of treasure and wisely decide to quit while they’re ahead. Only the truly determined and powerful will make it all the way to the top, where we assume Rathgan has hidden away the most prized of the stolen riches. We should be able to trail safely behind for the rest of the day. After that, I doubt our journey will be so easy. The one thing working for us is that this mountain is massive, and there are only so many dragons. With the flood of adventurers causing confusion, we’ll be hard to find.”
“And if we are discovered?” Grumph had a hunch he already knew what the answer was, but the question still demanded asking. Although he might not have spent as much time with adventurers as Thistle, Grumph understood that planning for failure was an essential part of staying alive. It would be nice if they made it up the mountain without being discovered. It just wasn’t something they could reasonably count on.
“Depends on who discovers us, I suppose,” Thistle said. “If it’s a dragon about the size of what we saw, then we stand a fighting chance. Any larger than that, however, and escape becomes our only chance at survival. Everyone run onward as fast and hard as you can. So long as there is one dragon, the task might still be doable. More than that, and you should make for the base of the mountain and teleport to safety.”
“I don’t see why the number of dragons matters; one can sound the alarm as easily as two,” Gabrielle said. “And it’s not like we’ve forgotten that you can’t run from evil or protecting people. We’re not going to head for freedom and abandon you.”
“You misunderstand me.” Thistle shifted forward, evidently having given up on finding something as impossible as comfort in the small cave. “The reason I said that you should run higher if there is only a single dragon and lower if there are more is that I can distract a single dragon. Not for long, mind you, but I think I can buy enough time for you to at least find a hiding spot. Two or more, and they’ll give you chase, meaning teleportation is your only hope. But, as you pointed out, I can’t run. If we are discovered by an older dragon, then my life is lost, Gabrielle. That is the burden of a paladin. At the very least, I hope to be able to spend those final moments saving the rest of you.”
“But... you can’t…” This time, it was Gabrielle who looked to Grumph for support; yet again, he shook his head. Thistle was right. They’d all seen firsthand what occu
rred when he ignored his intuition about evil and duty. Grumble had pinned him to the ground right in the middle of a street, not releasing Thistle until he promised to see the job done. Whatever personal reason they’d had for coming this far, the fact remained that Thistle had stepped into a situation where innocent people—merchants and villagers—were in need. Until it was resolved, he couldn’t back down.
Death or victory. It was the paladin’s creed, burden, and eulogy all rolled into one.
* * *
“That was awesome.” Tim was staring at the map so hard Russell almost wondered if he could see through it to the world where their characters dwelled and a truly amazing moment had just occurred.
It had been touch and go for several minutes there. If Cheri hadn’t rolled so high on her spell, if it were even a bit sloppy, then the energy could have overloaded and exploded across the mages rather than breaking through the barrier. Even after that, they’d been in a group with a pair of dragons, swooping down as they rained fire and attacks. Gelthorn’s enchanted arrow had been their saving grace that time, the vibrant blast of multi-colored energy blinding their assailants long enough to get the party clear. Of course, they were still exposed, at least until Wimberly had used a pair of strange spectacles to find a small tunnel that led steeply upward. The NPC adventurers had followed them deeper into the mountain until they arrived at a small cavern leading back outside. The entrance was too small for a dragon to squeeze past, which meant they had a few minutes to rest and regain their bearings before pressing on.
Down only one spell and an enchanted arrow: that was about as good as they could have hoped for in getting past the first part of the mountain. Russell could see the tables he’d been rolling on, and there were plenty of different ways it all could have gone. They’d been smart and more than a little lucky. But there was still a whole lot of mountain to scale.
