by Galen Wolf
The hole’s a way up. Too high to climb up to. If we turn our backs on them to clamber out, we’ll be very vulnerable, so it looks like we’re still having to get out the main door.
Tye fires a fireball at three advancing trolls. They fall back screaming, on fire, but as they fall they stagger into another rack of Smoky Crystals, which explode. Another explosion but this time there’s a chain reaction, crystal after crystal goes up, showering the room in deadly glass. It slaughters the enemy. A full rack goes up by the right wall, sending us reeling back and then I hear and see the whole wall collapse. The wall falls and I see daylight beyond and green grass. The slope of the hills is exposed. The explosion was so violent it’s taken down part of the town wall that the warehouse was built up against. I see it and yell. ‘That way!’
They look and understand. All five of us make our way across the smoking rubble and rapidly vanishing corpses to the hole in the wall. We won’t have to get out through the city gate, we can escape through the hole we’ve made in the wall. There’s so much smoke, I can hardly see. My sword is in my right hand, my shield on my left forearm. An ogre rushes out of the smoke swinging but I jab it.
The XP I’m getting for these guys is going down as I level. I’m Level 14 now, so I’m going to have to go after bigger prey for real XP gains. But this isn’t what this is about right now. This is about escape.
‘Right,’ I yell at Tye and Fitheach who are veering left in the smoke. They hear me and correct themselves until they’re on track for the hole. I’m ahead of them now and I’m almost at the gap. Bernard and Elizabeth bundle out in front of me and they’re free of the town. Bernard pulls Henry behind him and I get through with Spirit. I peer back through the black smoke. There’s a further explosion then another and the smoke thickens and I can’t see Tye or Fitheach. Then I hear the familiar sound of a fireball and more explosions. I’m standing outside the black obsidian town walls and through the ragged opening, when I see the warehouse roof lift off. The sound almost blows my eardrums out. Fitheach comes coughing out of the smoke.
‘Tye?’ I yell past him.
Fitheach answers after a fit of coughing. ‘He fired that last fireball, and they all went up. All the crystals. It took the roof off.’
I nod. The place is blazing now.
Bernard’s looking grim. ‘Is he okay? If he’s wounded, let’s go back in. You can heal him.’
Fitheach’s shaking his head. ‘No, you’re not getting me,’ then he breaks down coughing.
I nod. ‘Let’s go back.’ I can’t leave him. I move forward, leaving Spirit with Bernard and Elizabeth. I’ve got my sword in my hand and I’m ready to fight my way through any enemies to get Tye.
Fitheach stretches his hand out and catches my armoured elbow. ‘Gorrow. Tye’s dead. We need to move on.’
But I stare into the smoke.
The Blasted Heath
‘Let’s go, Gorrow,’ Bernard says tugging at my arm. ‘They’ll be out after us in a minute once they realise there’s a breach in the wall.’
I’m still staring into that smoky inferno. Another explosion rips through the place as more crystals go up.
‘He’ll resurrect back at Silver Drift,’ Fitheach says. ‘Bernard’s right. We need to move quickly now.’
I sigh. Of course they’re right. I mount Spirit and Elizabeth, Bernard and Fitheach mount their animals. Bessie is looking forlorn without Tye. Henry nuzzles her and then we move off.
I can’t help but look backwards. We’re about three hundred yards away now and still going up the slope. The crystal warehouse is burning fiercely. Nothing could survive in there now, and the smoke is thick and black. They won’t be able to see we’ve got out and even if they did, they couldn’t follow us through the fire. So we’ve escaped. For a while.
I nudge Spirit with my heels and he hurries up as if aware of the urgency to get away. The others similarly speed up until we’re bouncing and jingling in our saddles as we go through the diseased landscape around us. This place is worse than anywhere we’ve been. Most things are dead. There are big patches of bare earth that look scorched and the remaining grass is black with blight where it isn’t burned. Shallow pools dot the landscape but they seem filled with oil rather than water and every now and again as we go along, sinister creatures with big frog eyes lift their heads from the murky liquid.
The wind is cold and blows from the north. When I judge we’re well clear, I stop and send a personal message to Tye. The dove appears in my hands, cooing as I compose my text.
Gorrow: Tye, are you okay? I’m taking it your back at Silver Drift. Let me know.
The dove flies up and off and disappears, a spot of white in the dark sky. Within a minute I get a reply.
Tye: Yeah, I’m fine, boss. Sorry for the Big Bang. It took me by surprise.
Gorrow: It’s okay. Turns out you got us through the wall and covered our escape with your explosion.
Tye: I did? That’s sweet! I figured you want me to turn the Dungeon on so we could make a little cash from low level adventurers.
I frown. I’m worried now Maligon and his guys will re-enter the dungeon when there’s only Tye there.
Gorrow: Okay. But be careful of big bad guys. Close it if you get a hint they’re near.
Tye: Will do. But what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll only die. I’m upset that I can’t come with you on the quest to you-know-where to get you-know-what.
The worst that could happen is that they will get the dungeon loot. I’ll just have to trust Tye to manage it. I can’t from this distance. I look up. The landscape goes on and on in hill after hill of blackened desolation.
Fitheach comes close so I can hear him over the wind. ‘East now. We’ll head for the sea.’
I look around. This area was part of Scotia, but owed allegiance to King Arthur. Where we are now was once Bernicia, ruled from Bamburgh Castle, also known as the Joyous Guard, which belonged to Sir Lancelot at one time, and where his tomb is for when he eventually quits the game. Further north from here is Lothian, once the kingdom of King Lot, a key henchman of Arthur and the father of Sir Gawain. Also destroyed and in enemy hands.
It’s enough to make me depressed, until I remember that the whole point of our quest is to get these places back. I look around at these devastated lands we’re riding through. One day we will come back and throw out the enemy and then grass and trees and flowers will grow again, and the air will be full of birds and the land full of innocent animals, not the foul abominations that lurk in the dark and mist now. I sit up taller on Spirit. That day will come. I vow it.
And as if in mockery of my fears, a dark mist boils from the east. The wind drops and soon we are entering a foggy world that the weak sunlight hardly enters. It’s deathly quiet. Luckily, we’ve found the old road east and though it’s overgrown with slimy black lichen, it’s still recognisable.
But the fog is threatening. There’s a weird atmosphere in it. All of us ride closer together.
Henry speaks for the first time in a while. ‘I don’t like this, boss. There’s things in this mist.’
He may be right. But I hear nothing, not even any wind. It’s total silence like a blanket of cotton wool was dropped on us.
We ride on. I say to Fitheach, ‘This is the way?’
He nods. ‘I’m guessing so. The last time I travelled to see St Cuthbert the land was totally different. But if we’re on the old road, we’ll be right.’
‘I hope so,’ says Bernard, pulling his black robe tighter round him.
Because we can’t see ahead of us, we go slower. At one point, a dark shape solidifies ahead of us and my hand is on my sword before I realise it’s only a dead tree.
‘It’s going to take ages to get there at this rate,’ Bernard says.
Elizabeth Bathory is quiet. She’s hardly said a word since we escaped from the warehouse. Her only purpose was to get us through N
ew World Order, so I don’t need her now. I’d also rather she didn’t come to Lindisfarne with us. I decide, I’m going to ask her to leave.
Then there’s a roar from the fog. Then another.
Bernard pulls out his alchemical sword, the runes give off a blueish light. ‘That’s no tree,’ he mutters.
Fitheach’s glancing round him from the back of his horse. Spirit snorts. I can feel he’s alarmed by the noises.
Then there are more noises. I drag my sword from its scabbard and am comforted by the familiar multi-coloured flames: fire damage, cold damage and holy damage on its blade.
Roars and grunts to the left. I turn in my saddle to peer into the fog, but the daylight is dying and I can see less and less.
Then a terrible snarl rips from behind. Elizabeth jerks round to face it. But we still see nothing.
‘Hey, Fitheach, you know that Sunlight spell you’ve got?’
The saint nods.
‘Cast it, would you?’
With a brief syllable from the saint, a ball of light as pleasant as sunshine appears above us. It illuminates our little area but nothing much beyond. The walls of fog still roll and boil as if waiting for something to happen.
Because of the noises, we stop and pull ourselves into a circle, each facing out.
It sounds like there are lots of them out there, whatever they are, and we are surrounded.
Bernard pulls out an alchemical flask. It contains his gleaming light potion. He throws it randomly into the fog and we can’t see where it goes but there’s a flash dimmed by banks of dark fog and then a scream.
Bernard hoots with laughter. ‘I dunno what I hit, but I’m pleased it got hurt.’
Elizabeth says quietly. ‘I wish they’d just come so we could see what they are.’
Fitheach smiles in encouragement. ‘Don’t worry, Elizabeth, you’re with friends here.’
So it seems he trusts her. He was suspicious of her just after she got us through the gate, so her taking us through the warehouse has persuaded him, but then I seem to remember he always wanted to trust her all along.
Then there’s a shriek and three figures emerge from the fog to our right. My sword is in my hand and I urge Spirit toward them. He rears and clatters his hooves on them before I can really see what they are. Then they’re so close I can’t miss them. They’re pig-men hybrids, standing on two legs, armoured in leather and bits of plate, some in fish-scale hauberks. They carry spears and axes and swords and have round metal shields or oblong wooden ones. Their faces are distorted with little piggy eyes they can hardly see out from, thick bristles and yellowed broken tusks protruding from their mouths. Their noses are big and flat with slobbery nostrils. As they wrinkle them, I realise they’re hunting us by smell.
I slash.
The pig-man jabs his spear at me.
That’s good. I cut again and hit him for 960 but still he doesn’t go down. They must have some health these things.
Then a bigger pig lunges at me from behind and gets a crit.
I hurriedly swing round and connect with my sword, and I get a Doublestrike.
And he still doesn’t go down. The first pig can’t hurt me but the sergeant attacks again and my Shield Block 20% chance triggers and his blow bounces off my green shield. I jab back and this time I get a crit too.
I sip one of Bernard’s finest Health 200 potions, and I’m up to 350. Still not great, but I’ll drink again when the potion comes off cool-down.
I cut down the first pig and look around. Fitheach has three of them writhing on the ground with the power of his white eyes. Elizabeth is holding her own. I see three pig corpses round her, but Bernard’s bleeding badly. There are two sergeants on him. He hurriedly sips health potion but that distracts him and lets one of them jab him. I see my alchemist friend grunt and double up as the blow goes into his guts. That must have been a crit by the alarm on Bernard’s face. I ride over and kill the sergeant with two blows which both crit because, at first he had his back to me, and then even when he pivoted, I still got him in the flank. That’s another 250xp.
Bernard’s in a bad way. I see him sip potion with a shaking hand but he gets that spitting out graphic that shows it’s on cool-down still.
The pig sergeant slashes him again and Bernard jabs back and wounds the thing.
Then there are more howls. We’re surrounded by pigs but there’s something else coming out of the fog. Huge grey loping bodies burst into our illuminated circle: werewolves — there’s at least five of them. Fitheach roars out his challenge and two of them focus on him. Others go for Elizabeth, but she blasts them back with a necrotic burst.
One appears behind Bernard, standing about seven feet high with slavering yellow teeth and red eyes. It bends down and, just as Bernard kills the pig-sergeant, it bites at the alchemist’s neck and kills him.
‘Damn you!’ I scream out and lunge at the werewolf.
I have anti-shifter Star Silver enhancement on my sword. I turn and kill another wolf, but that’s no use for Bernard. I stare as his ghost vanishes and his body dissipates into pixels. Another of our team down. That’s not good. He’ll go back to Silver Drift and run the dungeon with Tye, but it doesn’t help our quest.
I see that Fitheach and Elizabeth have dealt with the majority of the pigs and most of the werewolves. I spur Spirit towards a remaining wolf that’s standing growling at the edge of the circle, but when he sees us move, he flees into the fog. I don’t pursue.
Elizabeth kills a pig-man and they’re running too.
Fitheach raises his eyebrows. ‘Bernard, dead. What a thing.’
I nod. ‘Yes. He’ll be okay at Silver Drift, but that’s not the point.’
‘And then there were three,’ Elizabeth says.
I nod at her. She’s right of course, but she’s talking like she’s one of us and I’m still not sure she is. And there’s still this damned fog.
‘We have to keep on going east, fog or no fog.’
We ride on, quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. We’re still in the enveloping mist and going so slowly we might as well be crawling, Fitheach sighs heavily. ‘I’m wondering if we’re going to make it at all.’
I glance at him. I need to raise his spirits. ‘Think of seeing your old buddy, Cuthbert.’
He smiles. ‘Ah, yes, Cuth! Did I ever tell you of the time we played that trick on St Oswald with the turkey? What a jape that was.’
He hadn’t told me. Now he does.
Another half an hour and the mist finally thins until it’s just strands and patches blocking our way but it has become night while we were wrapped up in the fog. I ask Fitheach to kill his Sunshine spell. It’s only going to draw attention to us now.
When the spell is gone we sit on our mounts, Bessie and Henry tagging along behind. The night is cold and clear. Stars burn high like scattered diamonds and the moon hangs nearly full, bathing the ground in her white light.
Fitheach points east. ‘The sea.’
And far away I can make out a glittering on the horizon where the moonlight meets the troubled waters of the German Sea. That’s where we’re headed. For the first time in a long time, my heart lifts.
Then I see Elizabeth twist her head. She’s staring up. There’s something up there to the right of the moon. It’s hard to make it out against the dark sky. It’s got a long sinuous body like a dragon, and wings like a dragon but the head is wrong.
Instead of a lizard head it has that of an evil red-eyed rooster.
‘What the hell is that?’ Elizabeth says.
‘It’s a Cockatrice.’ I mutter.
‘Oh dear,’ Fitheach says. He knows how tough these are.
The beast sights us and begins to descend.
I draw my sword. ‘Get ready,’ I say.
The Cockatrice
The Cockatrice lands in front of us, rears up on its hind legs, flapping its leather wings. Its head has a coxcomb and a razor sharp beak. Its eyes are red like fire as it throws back its rooster head and emits an ear-piercing shriek.
Spirit rears up in terror and I whisper reassurance. It’s time for my lance. I take it out, the green pennant fluttering at the end in the stinking wind that comes from the cockatrice.
There’s no time to think much about this. I couch my lance and charge.
The thing screams at me and I can almost see its bad breath.
It’s hurt Spirit too. He whinnies but keeps on going. I’ve got my eye on the cockatrice’s belly as we gallop and I feel the weight of the crystal lance under my arm. My shield’s up, to protect myself as best I can.
I’m aware of Fitheach and Elizabeth charging behind me but I can’t lose focus.
Three.
Two.
One.
And impact!
I’m almost knocked out of the saddle by the shocking judder as the crystal lance slides off the thing’s belly scales.
It must have some kind of block skill.
Then it lashes out with its taloned wing and both Spirit and I reel to the side.
I sip a potion and I’m back to 850. I swap my lance for my sword and spur Spirit in close. He hesitates. This is the first time I’ve ever known him hesitate. I nudge him with my knees again and he goes.
