by Charles Dean
Lee watched her leave and return to the group she was supposed to be with. He was already over the well-wishes and whatever misfortune they might bring.
The once-large group had broken up into four smaller groups. The first group was the one holding ladders and carry shields, the second was made up of Amber and her squad, the third was Ling and the town’s five best archers, and the final group, which Lee had to say was the most ridiculous and pointless, was Miller and Lee, whose job was as dumb as this whole plan that Lee had concocted haphazardly under pressure. He wanted to kick himself for not just admitting that he didn’t have a plan and consulting with the group until they came up with something, but he was convinced that he had made the right decision in the end. As far as he was concerned, it was better to maintain high morale and confidence rather than wasting a bunch of time coming up with a plan that still might not work or even be any better than this one. Sure, he could have shuffled some of the blame off onto the others as well if they all came up with the plan and it failed. Now, he was the one who would have to carry the responsibility of failure and the guilt of all the lives lost.
Lee looked over at his buddy and asked, “Alright, Miller, you ready?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Miller grumbled.
“Oh, come on, this will be great!” Lee laughed at Miller’s rarely-seen grumpy face.
“Why don’t we just take the whole fort by ourselves? Why do we have to let them get all the good kills?”
“Relax, this was the best decision, so let’s go do our part.” Lee patted the oaf on his back, and the pair walked out ahead of the others, weapons held at the ready, and then started sprinting toward the wall.
No status updates until after the fight, Lee reminded giant-blue-box-generating-overseer. He didn’t want to see any ‘you have lost a personal follower’ type messages.
As you wish, all status messages shall remain delayed until after the completion of your battle. This will not delay the acquirement of items or level ups, only the messages notifying you of these instances.
Ethan, get ready. This is your part, Lee thought to the two mice stuffed in the bag of rope on his back.
“Enemies at the south wall!” one of the guards shouted loudly enough that Miller and Lee could hear them.
“Looks like they finally noticed us!” Miller sounded almost happy again as the two guards on the south wall started firing arrows at them.
Lee ducked behind his looted tower shield as soon they began firing arrows. He expected Miller to do the same, but the oaf didn’t pull his shield out right away. Instead, he began shouting something that sounded like a mix between gibberish and profanities. He didn’t know if the lack of translation to English had to do with the fact there was a mature language filter or if there just wasn’t any direct correlation between the words he was saying and any particular phrase in English.
“Get your shield out, man!” Lee yelled over at his friend, who did as he was told just in time to block an arrow. His shield wasn’t half as large as Lee’s since he had customized a small buckler with the symbol of a beer mug, foamy top included, in front of a spear. When Lee had asked about it earlier, he had informed him that it was going to be the symbol for the Paladin order.
“Life isn’t fun without some risks,” Miller said as they got closer to the wall.
“East wall! East wall! Enemy ladders on their way!” Lee heard the shouts he had been waiting for since they spotted him, finally letting him know that the second group had been spotted. Well, they got a minute head start. That should be enough.
Lee was worried for his clay friends, but he had to stick to the plan. Each of the mice that made up Ethan grabbed the end of a rope and glided out of Lee’s bag and onto the ground before scampering away at a ridiculous speed. Arrows whizzed by, missing the two rodents by a good margin, and Lee was suddenly grateful for the fact that the archers couldn’t hold a candle to a seasoned marksman like Ling.
The two rodents reached the wall well before Lee and Miller and began climbing up it, towing the rope behind them.
“Get the oil! We’ve got a summon climbing!” one of the archers yelled.
“Can’t! It’s on the east wall! Just hack it off when it gets to the top!” another one of the enemies yelled, but the suggestion was futile. Both of the mice were easily able to top the wall while towing a sixty-foot rope behind them. Once there, they wrapped the ropes around one of the first battlements available and then took to the sky, no longer burdened by the weight of the rope. He knew that they would be cut away before either he or Miller made it to the wall, but he had three more identical sets of ropes in his backpack.
This whole scheme was really just a ploy to pull guards away from the other groups. He was hoping that they could distract enough guards on this side that the other groups would be able to scale the walls without having to face as many archers. The other groups, however, weren’t doing so great. As soon as the mice took to the sky, Lee peered through their eyes at the other groups, and he felt his stomach sink. He saw three men either dead or injured from the arrows, down on the ground and unmoving, and two others at the front who had arrows sticking out of them. One had an arrow in the side of his stomach, and the other had an arrow protruding from his thigh.
There were also two dead archers on the battlements—one had an arrow stuck through his mouth and out the back of his skull, and the other had his left arm pinned against his chest by an arrow—yet their losses didn’t look nearly as bad as his.
Lee signaled the mice to return and grab another rope from the backpack.
“We should have gone with the group carrying the ladder. There’s no way we’ll make it up,” Miller observed.
“We’ll be fine,” Lee said just as they reached the wall and held up their shields to block the projectiles.
“We’re sitting ducks, and the ropes are cut. Let’s just go join the ladders,” Miller insisted.
“We’re supposed to be bait, so just wait for a bit. We’ll join them soon enough.”
“But we won’t draw first blood!”
“Victory or brutality. Which matters more?” Lee asked in frustration as another arrow thunked into his shield, the arrowhead piercing through the wood and giving him a fright.
“I wouldn’t expect someone who can rise from the dead to understand, but a victory without brutality is just a game of waiting until they come back even more wicked than the last time. It’s not enough to pull the weed up by the roots: you have to soak it in poison too. If you don’t, you’re just waiting for the garden and everything else that was beautiful to die and be replaced by foul corruption.” Miller’s words, coated in a solemn and collected tone that didn’t fit the oaf’s usual persona, caused a chill to run up Lee’s spine.
Lee didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there in silence while his mice did their job and secured the ropes at the top again. He didn’t have a fancy retort or even a good response. He had always just taken Miller’s violence as the effect of someone who really liked to role-play the hero. This was more than that, though, and he wasn’t prepared to admit that the Firbolg was right, so he said nothing and stared out at the field they had run through moments ago.
Once the rope was clear, he broke the silence. “They only left two people to handle us at the top, and the rest are headed toward the ladder team. This is your best chance at that brutality you want.”
“Good. I want to be the first one over that wall!” Miller stowed his shield, grabbed the rope, and began his climb upward.
Lee wasn’t far behind him. He felt uneasy about throwing his shield away as he began to scale up the rope as fast as he could. It was the one exercise in gym class he hated the most when he was a kid, and he would always slack off when it was his turn, but now he was climbing that rope as if his life depended on it. Halfway up the rope, he heard screams from the other side. He hoped it was the enemies, but he had a bad feeling that it was his men given that it sounded like it wasn�
��t far off the ground rather than at the top of the wall.
He wanted to use one of the mice to check on it, but they were both doing everything they could just to fend off the two men trying to cut the rope he and Miller were climbing. It was a rather interesting dance, as they would fly close enough to the men to bite them, and as soon as the men turned their attention to them, they’d fly away again. If either of the guards had been willing to risk having a mouse rip at his neck or taking the damage of a few bites, both Miller and Lee would have been dropped back down to the bottom. It was a good thing that they were occupied with the two small rodents because Lee really didn’t want to know how fall damage worked in this world.
He heard a few more words of gibberish from the guards that were followed by a sentence that actually made sense. “Get someone over here! They’ve scaled the walls! We need help on the south wall!”
“Busy on the east wall! The ladders are up and secure, and they’re starting to climb up now! Wi—” The guard never finished his sentence.
Since Lee and Miller had scaled the wall, the mice were free to scout again, and he quickly used to them to confirm his fears. Two of the townspeople, now unrecognizable, had been burned alive when a boiling substance had been dumped on them. Their bodies were sprawled out next to one of the ladders, so it was hard to tell if they had started climbing before the oil came down on them or if it had been had poured on them while they were setting up the ladder. Either way, the result was the same.
There were two people at the bottom of each ladder, securing them against the walls so that the guards wouldn’t be able to topple them over, but there was little chance of that actually happening now. Amber and her group had made it over another wall, and they had begun killing the guards off as quickly as they could get to them. Her group had assaulted the fort on the opposite side from where Lee was, and the commotion created by Lee and the other group attempting to scale the walls had been enough to draw the guards away from her position. The battlements were now littered with bodies from where she and her group made their way around, slaughtering the guards as they went.
“We need to make it to that side,” Miller shouted, looking at the guards who had begun gathering together in a tight ball as they prepared to launch a counterattack.
“Yeah, let’s get to our people,” Lee said, staring at the enemies in front of him.
They’re both archers. This should be rather easy.
As if proving his point, Miller slammed into one of the guards so hard that the man was knocked clean off of the battlements and into the fort’s courtyard. He then stabbed the other with his spear and hoisted the man over the side of the wall they had just climbed. In the matter of a few seconds, the Firbolg had managed to fling the two full-grown men around like a pair of rag dolls. If the initial damage hadn’t been enough to kill the guards, the two-story fall would be.
“Go! We’re missing out on the fun!” Miller shouted as he rushed toward the fight.
Fortunately, or unfortunately for Miller, Amber and her group had proven to be rather efficient in their task, and they had dismantled everyone by the time that Miller finally reached them. When he reached the pile of dead guards, his discontent was plainly evident on his face. “We shoulda stuck with one of the other groups,” he complained.
Lee ignored the comment and looked at Amber instead. “Good job,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. “I hope all of your fights go this smoothly.”
“Thank you!” She smiled back at him, and though she meant it honestly, her visage was made more than a little creepy by the fact that she was covered with blood from the people she just murdered.
Lee turned his attention to the inside of the fort. There was a good-sized four-story stone keep set at the center, although it only had a large wooden door instead of an iron gate, and there were paneless windows littered across its front. They weren’t hardly large enough for a person to fight through, and they were obviously designed to allow archers to shoot out without taking too much of a risk.
“Alright. So, it looks like they aren’t going to defend the courtyard, and they’ve already retreated into the main keep,” Lee observed. “That means we can definitely bump up the schedule on our attack plan. Do you have enough material to get started, Henslee?”
“I’m going to help her,” Miller insisted.
“Well, don’t start just yet. We need to make sure we’ve got everyone over the wall and accounted for first.” He genuinely hoped that the gung-ho barbarian wouldn’t start the next battle prematurely—a hope that was diminished with one look in the Firbolg’s eyes.
“Let’s at least head down to go check out our target,” Miller said, putting an arm over the much smaller woman. She flinched at his touch and gave him a glare but didn’t say a word as the two walked down the stairs from the battlements and into the courtyard.
Lee started handing out directions to everyone as they came over the wall, positioning them just where he wanted in the courtyard.
Finally, Ling came over the wall last. “Is that everyone?” Lee asked her. He felt like a bus driver who had been forced to deal with elementary school kids as he ushered everyone into position.
“We lost five to arrows, two to oil. The rest are all up here with you, so yes, that’s everyone,” she responded.
“Five? I only counted four?”
“There was another casualty near the tree line. He tried to retreat after being struck and made it to the woods before dying of blood loss.” Her lips twisted into a frown, making her look more disgruntled and upset. “I hope no one holds his last act of cowardice against him. It took real courage to charge to the front like he did.”
You’re asking others not to judge him, but it sounds like you already have. Lee had turned to follow her gaze toward where she pointed at the tree line, but he didn’t say anything. “Those trees . . .” He pointed to an area in the distance as he spoke. “They’re rustling like we have enemy troops incoming.”
“What rustling?” Ling asked. It was a fair question. Lee hadn’t actually seen any rustling of leaves: he’d seen the actual movement of people through tiny flying mouse eyes. He just didn’t explain it because there were more people around than only Ling. He might have been willing to share his secret with Ling and Miller, but he still didn’t know how much he could trust everyone else.
His face twisted into a scowl that matched the one she had worn only moments ago. “They’re there, and a good number will be here in the next ten to fifteen minutes at the latest. Sorry, but it looks like we won’t be able to take you into the main battle at the keep. Round up at least ten able-bodied archers. Guard this wall, and don’t let them through the gates.”
“But what about you? Are you going to be able to kill the—”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, cutting her off. This was one of those times he didn’t have the luxury of arguing with her. “Just get it done. If you fail, if they penetrate this fort, we’re going to be pincered between two sets of troops. We’ll be smashed into pieces. Let’s get moving!” he shouted to everyone else. “If you’re not holding the wall with Ling, let’s go! We’re on a tight schedule now!”
“Yeah, boss!” Miller’s mood perked up at the idea of a rushed schedule and a fight looming even closer. “Let’s go kill a false prophet!”
“Death to the bastard!” one of the other remaining people yelled, and then several more added in those unique gibberish profanities.
He didn’t care that they were cursing, just so long as morale remained high. It seemed to have wavered just after they took the walls, likely due to their lost comrades, but it was coming back now and stronger than before. The gathered crowd was much smaller due to their losses and the removal of Ling’s crew to the walls, so morale was that much more important.
Lee knew his friend was eager to rack up any amount of glory, so he turned to the larger man and said, “Miller, I’ll let you do the honors of starting us off.”
“You sure h
e’ll come out?” Miller asked. “I still have a few promises to keep.”
“They’ll come out,” Lee assured him.
He pulled out a piece of wood and held it over a fire that one of the men had started. Henslee and several others did the same, each grabbing a piece of lumber and lighting it up. Once the wood was lit, they began tossing them at the base of the large wooden keep door. It didn’t appear to have been treated with anything and was dried out from too much time in the sun, so it quickly caught fire. As the flames began to build, Miller began taking pieces of the flaming wood and tossing them at the slits and into the keep. A few bounced off, but they were able to pick up them up and hurl them inside before the flames went out.
One by one, more and more flaming pieces of wood were hurled into the keep. Lee was beginning to think it was all pointless, until, at last, he heard coughing. Everyone around him immediately stopped what they were doing and began equipping their shields as they stared at the door and waited. From the sounds of it, there were at least a dozen men inside, and they were likely to come barging out at any moment.
“Keep throwing them through the windows!” Lee urged. “Don’t let them have a break from the smoke!” He knew that nothing had caught fire inside. The door might have been made from wood, but nothing else in the keep was. It was constructed from stone and wasn’t likely to catch fire. They needed to create as much smoke as they could, or no one would be forced out of the building.”
Finally, from the other side of the door, he heard, “Well, just break it down!”
The wooden door was already well on its way to being consumed by flame when it was struck, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that it exploded in a spray of sparks and embers when the door shattered a moment later and knights rushed out. The first two out of the keep were clad in shiny, silver full plate, though they were missing helmets, and another wearing gold armor rushed out behind them. Clearly the one in charge, he yelled, “Protect the Herald!”
Given how close they were in size compared to Miller, along with the angular shape of their foreheads, Lee guessed that all three enemy knights were Firbolgs. As such, they likely had whatever racial bonus it was that made Miller so strong.
