Some Sort of Glitch

by Wade Adrian

  She seemed to get it, nodding in response.

  He pointed at the gate, Eira ducking away and disappearing from his line of sight.

  His plan was pretty reckless, but he wanted them to follow him rather than simply shutting the gate so... he was going to take a page from Tom's book. He made his way over to the crate of wine the bandits had busted open.

  The bandits sang, most seated while the braver few danced only to have empty bottles, bones, insults and laughter thrown at them.

  Several of Max's expectations of late had been off. It was nice that the bandits were living up to the stereotype.

  The bandits did a fine job of distracting themselves as Max crept in close. Stealth was becoming second nature. He kept to the shadows, which were plentiful when most of the light came from the large central fire.

  It was no great feat to get a pair of bottles out of the broken crate without being seen.

  He didn't have magic at his disposal, but that didn't mean pyrotechnics were beyond him. He cast the bottles at the bonfire as hard as he could, averting his eyes and clamping them shut.

  He heard the glass break, but the woosh of the fire was lost in the surprised screams of the bandits.

  Daggers in hand he leapt from his hiding place, burying steel into any bandit he could reach before moving onto the next, making his way to the gate. None of them had recovered yet, most still covering their eyes, yelling and cursing.

  He didn't waste time trying to kill any of them, he just wanted all of their attention focused on him. Dead ones wouldn't care, and if he missed any they would be less likely to follow.

  The rocks falling somewhere off to his left signaled that his people had gotten the message and started their work.

  Hell, Tom had probably heard that from outside. Or seen the fire.

  A pair of bandits closest to the gate had weapons drawn, but their eyes were still squinted, trying to adjust.

  It seemed a simple fight. He had every advantage.

  The guard on the left bit off a cry as he fell forward.

  Eira stood in his place a moment later, a bloody short sword in hand.

  The second bandit turned to see what had happened, only to get one of Max's daggers in his gut, and a second in his side.

  Both seemed to count as surprise damage, as the man fell to the ground.

  Max glanced back over his shoulder.

  Bandits were scrambling, tripping over each other, several holding bloody wounds as they yelled and pointed.

  A few other crates had caught fire. A few people, too.

  Max sheathed his daggers and ran for the gate. "You're not very good at following orders."

  Eira ran beside him. "I'm great at following orders. You must be bad at giving them."

  "Clearly."

  Eira beat him to the gate, her hands wrapping around the latch. She pulled and yanked.

  The gate protested, but it shifted. There were a few noteworthy metallic pangs as it moved.

  Max watched the bandits stumble and rub at their eyes as they yelled and gave chase.

  Slowly.

  He'd expected better, honestly.

  Eira grunted. "Ugh. Heavy."

  He turned to find her shoving against the gate with her shoulder. It had shifted a few inches, but calling it open would have been a stretch. He moved to help, planting both hands against the wood.

  The sound of rusty metal scraping other rusty metal was rather... novel. Max didn't know if his ears could bleed, but it kind of felt like they should.

  He let go once the gap was more than large enough for them to pass through. "Okay, I'll go. You get hidden. If they shut it again this will all be wasted effort."

  "Don't think so." Eira held up a metal bar with a little handle...

  Max blinked. "Is that the latch?"

  "Yeah, think it will need some work." She shrugged.

  "Okay..." Max pointed. "Both out, then."

  She nodded. "First order from you I've liked the sound of." She shoved at him slightly before running out into the night.

  Max narrowed his eyes.

  Jerks, all of them. Just a country full of jerks.

  A whistle and a loud thunk preceded an arrow standing out of the gate beside him.

  It wiggled back and forth as Max bolted out into the dark.

  Hopefully they didn't have many of those.

  "Come on!" Eira waved to him, only a few steps beyond the gate.

  Hmm. Maybe she wasn't the biggest jerk around. Just one of the lesser jerks.

  Rocks were still settling, a few smaller ones still falling.

  If Max had known they could break the gate and hold the bridge between forts, he probably wouldn't have told them to waste the rocks. Someone was going to have to carry them back up...

  Hindsight.

  Arrows landed around them as they ran. Clumsily fired, most coming in too high and clearly not aimed well, but still a threat.

  Max considered hitting the button to vanish... but that would leave Eira as the only target. He hadn't wanted anyone else in the line of fire for a reason.

  So much for that.

  It probably also wouldn't save him from random arrows. Not like they were aiming at anything but the path down.

  Eira screamed and lurched forward.

  Max moved closer and grabbed her arm to keep her from tripping on the sloped ground.

  She bit off another scream.

  An arrow was stuck in her right arm. It had hit the back and was standing out though the front. A third of her health was gone, and she had an "injury" debuff that was doing damage over time and reduced strength and dexterity.

  He helped her to stand again.

  She was wobbly.

  Eira grabbed her bad arm with her good, spiting curses like a sailor. He didn't understand most of them, but the context made it pretty plain.

  "Your legs work. Get going." He pointed down the hill, turning and drawing his estoc.

  She shook her head. "No, I can-"

  "You're no use in this fight. Go. See what the hell is keeping the rest of them."

  He heard a sigh from behind... but he heard feet padding away, too.

  The occasional arrow still fell.

  That needed to stop.

  Max bolted back up the hill, holding the sword ahead of him like a spear. He let his voice rise in a wordless cry.

  More likely to get their attention than screaming, "look at me!" At least, he hoped. Intimidation factor and all.

  Not that he had much of that anymore. He was a slight man in leather armor. About as intimidating as a chihuahua.

  Bandits running down the ramp seemed genuinely surprised to see him running back up it right at them. A few at the rear of the group were firing arrows, well over the heads of their fellows, accounting for the crappy aim.

  At least they cared enough to not shoot through them. Of course, hitting them would waste arrows meant for enemies.

  Maybe they were still jerks.

  The tip of the estoc buried itself in a bandit's chest as Max charged straight into them, and the bandits kept charging down. The two things meeting made for plenty of force.

  Max almost lost his grip on the handle as the estoc ran the man through and a blow from the bandit's sword hit the armor over Max's shoulder.

  The bandit's leather armor didn't seem up to the task of stopping an estoc. It was buried nearly to the hilt. Max drew the bloodied blade back out and stabbed it into the bandit again. The man fell over with a groan. He hadn't been at full health to start.

  Several of those approaching were less than full. People he had hit when they were blind and reeling. Maybe he should have spent the time to finish off a few rather than hurt several.

  So much for his great plans. There was a reason he had chosen to be a Paladin.

  When the next bandit came in swinging he batted their little sword away with a two handed swipe of his own. He had mountains of experience when it came to fighting like this. Each time the man trie
d to strike he turned the sword away and stabbed with the estoc.

  Max landed a few "hits," too. Useless, mostly. The sword had no edge. It was like a long drawn out chisel. Nobody seemed to care for getting hit by it in any case.

  He backpedaled away, trying to keep the number he was fighting to two, if not one. It was... less than easy with the slope behind him.

  On the third bandit he figured out he could still slash with the estoc if he made sure to connect with the narrow point. It would tear flesh open readily enough. Tricky to line up, but useful to have a second means of doing damage.

  The bandits began to bunch up on the narrow pass.

  It seemed they had been trying to shut the gate, but with no way to latch it they had decided to give chase anyway.

  The estoc did more damage than a dagger and was certainly better in a stand up fight, but it was still no traditional two hander for wading into a crowd.

  He'd been trying to ignore the hits coming in. Shrugging them off. Relying on his armor when he couldn't turn a hit aside.

  His health was below half.

  And... he swore it actually hurt when he got hit.

  That was new.

  A stab to the face saw a fourth bandit falling to the ramp. He'd endured about half a dozen hits already.

  As the man crumpled Max caught sight of the small crowd behind him.

  Definitely more than a dozen in the fort.

  Twice as many.

  Maybe more.

  Well... discretion is the better part of valor.

  Max turned and bolted, sheathing the estoc as he ran.

  Where the hell was his backup? People a county over probably heard those rocks fall. They should bloody well be here by now.

  They should have been here awhile ago.

  His footing was less than sure in the dark, but he didn't have much of a choice. If he slowed he would be caught.

  He could see the path... mostly.

  A spared glance back... might have been a mistake. They were still back there.

  And they had their bows readied again.

  Pain lanced through his leg as he tumbled forward, rolling in the dirt.

  For a moment he was impressed.

  It really smelled like dirt. Great attention to detail.

  Of course, that wouldn't matter soon.

  He came to a stop face down on the path. His leg burned. It refused to move when instructed, but sent plenty of pain along to his brain. A fresh batch each time he tried to use it.

  A little icon off to the edge of his vision showed he had the same debuff Eira had gotten from being shot. No wonder she had screamed. He probably had too, somewhere along his tumbling.

  Did they lace these arrows with something?

  Dickheads.

  So unsporting.

  He could hear feet approaching and unsheathed his daggers. He wasn't going to go quietly.

  A pair of boots appeared in front of his face.

  Black boots. Shiny.

  Max tilted his head up.

  Tom stood in the path, tossing and catching a marble with his right hand. "You on a break or something?"

  "Or something." Max managed to wheeze out.

  Tom narrowed his eyes up the path. The marble began to glow. Generally when he cast a spell light appeared near his hands, but this time it all seemed contained within the marble.

  The tiny glass sphere quickly grew too bright for Max to look at, a piercing point of painful light in the night. Even after he looked away he could see the light from it painting the dirt beneath them like midday.

  Tom gave the marble a casual toss ahead, but it cut through the air like a bullet.

  A burst of light and sound hit Max before the rush of air threw dirt on top of him and pushed him a few more inches down the hill.

  It had been a spell... a spell cast by a level twenty two cleric, no less. Yet it had hit the group of charging bandits like a bolt of lightning.

  Tom glanced back over his shoulder, waited a few seconds, then made an exaggerated gesture presenting the bandits. "Well?"

  Boots thundered past, voices raised. Blue armor swelled past on both sides, breaking around Tom and the prone form of Max like a river around a rock.

  "Take a few prisoners, if you'd be so kind!" Tom yelled at the backs of his people.

  A few of the bandits were smoking, never to move again. The rest had been knocked down and were groping at the darkness trying to find their way when the soldiers fell on them.

  Tom nodded approvingly. "I'm good at this."

  "Yes." Max laid his head back on the nice cool dirt.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  "Mostly that I'm dying."

  "Pfft."

  A heavy hand struck Max's back.

  Pain washed away as light clouded his vision.

  "Get up, sissy."

  It certainly seemed more possible now. He felt like he had strength enough to climb that stupid wall again. He rolled over and tried to sit up.

  Pain arched through his leg, sending tendrils into his brain.

  He was pretty sure he yelled... but it was probably manly.

  When he opened his eyes again Tom was kneeling next to him, a finger pointed at the arrow sticking out of his leg. "Well there's your problem right there."

  "Yes, thank you. I never would have noticed."

  "Do you have a stick, or like a strip of leather or something?"

  "No, why?"

  "No reason." Tom grabbed Max's leg with his left hand and yanked the arrow free with his right.

  Pain was... pretty much all that existed for a minute there.

  But then it was gone.

  All of it.

  Good as new.

  Max sat up, looking down at his leg.

  He couldn't even tell where the arrow had been. No hole in his pants or anything.

  Tom tossed the feathered stick aside. "You good to help us capture a fort now?"

  Cheers rose from higher up the hill.

  "Oh, well... never mind then."

  17

  Max was still a bit wobbly when Tom helped him up, but he felt well enough to stumble forward beside the cleric.

  Tom perused the troops and their captives like a shift manager. "Good, good." He nodded a few times.

  "I'm a bit surprised, honestly." Max stretched his leg a few times. It felt... fine. Too bad his brain was slow catching up. It seemed to expect pain with every step.

  "Oh? It was your plan. Which I have some issues with, by the way."

  "Yeah, me too."

  "Well, aside from you almost dying. That's what we call acceptable losses. No." He turned and pointed back down the ramp. "That bit there, with the rocks? Yeah, that didn't really go to plan. See they hit some more rocks on the way down. Bit of a little avalanche back there. Kinda a bitch to climb over, hence our delay."

  Max rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah... my bad. I might have underestimated us, or overestimated them."

  "Sounds like you."

  "What I meant by surprised..." Max rolled his eyes, "was taking prisoners. Seems rather altruistic for you. I mean housing, feeding, probably healing. I'm pleasantly surprised."

  "Well, if you want to hang onto that warm and fuzzy feeling you should probably cover your ears." Tom pointed at one of the soldiers walking by. "Get the prisoners moving. I'll patch them up if necessary. We need that path cleared." He turned a side eye to Max. "Unless you want to do it?"

  Max frowned a bit. "No."

  "Me neither." Tom pointed at the soldier again. "Keep some people here to watch them work, one for each pair at least. Have the rest head back and break camp. We've got walls to sleep inside now."

  The soldier saluted. "Sir!"

  A smug smile crept onto Tom's face. "Super good at this."

  "Yes." Max nodded as he started up toward the gate. "You walked up the ramp and threw soldiers at drunk enemies expertly."

  "Command, dickhead." Tom punched Max in the shoulder. "I commanded them to
attack drunk enemies. To think I spent so long avoiding this sort of thing. Turns out everyone is still stupid, but you can use that to your advantage."

  "I'm not sure that's a great life lesson."

  "Too late, that's what I got out of this."

  Max shrugged. "Well, you learned something. Bravo."

  "Oh, that's not all. I also learned it's a lot safer to be in command than to go in personally." Tom patted Max on the shoulder and leaned in closer, his voice quiet. "That's why the pawns go first, man."

  Max rolled his eyes. "Well, best you don't grow too much at once. Clothes wouldn't fit."

  "Mmm." Tom nodded, dusting off his shoulder armor a bit. "Wouldn't want that. I'm starting to like them."

  Max laid a hand on the gate. It seemed more or less in tact... aside from the broken latch.

  Eira was already inside, leading the light armored troops Max had broken in with. She gave a left handed salute.

  Tom's eyebrow crept up when he saw her arm. "You got hit too, huh?"

  She nodded. "I'll get it patched up. You don't need to worry about me being ready for the next siege."

  The cleric smiled. "Professionalism. Love it." He waved. "Come here."

  Eira frowned, but moved closer.

  Tom held up a hand, white light playing over it.

  The girl backed away. "Begging you pardon, sir. I'll find a surgeon."

  He tilted his head, the light fading away to nothing. "I can fix it now. Like, instantly." Tom hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Fixed Max here up right proper."

  Eira's eyes cut to Max, then to her feet. "I appreciate the pains master Talren took to ensure my escape, but..." she shook her head. "You serve the nameless. I would take any pains over suffering its influence."

  Tom scoffed. "Really? Who cares? I'm just a cleric, a priest. Any other priest with any other god can do the same thing. Why does it matter?"

  "You serve the nameless. Your power is its power."

  Tom sighed. "Look, I don't have this kinda time." He shook his head and reached out, grabbing her arm and yanking the arrow free.

  She screamed and tried to pull her arm away and back up at the same time.

  Light played over Tom's hand as he swept it at her, placing his palm on her forehead.

  Magic washed over her, swirling around from her head down to her feet.