by Drew Hayes
On cue, his ursine army surged forth in various directions, set on a homicidal crash course for the raiders. A flutter of sympathy filled Grumph’s heart as he watched the first bear rampage forward. Part of him wondered if this was brutal overkill. That feeling faded fast as he witnessed the bear suddenly explode in flames. A bald human at the front of the raider group was holding up a gauntlet that glowed red with magical heat, and with a point of his finger, another fiery blast struck the first bear. From his left, a second raider came forward, one that looked so similar to the first, they might have been brothers. This fellow didn’t have a gauntlet, however; he was hefting an axe that looked much too big for him, yet with a casual swing, he chopped the head clean off the dire bear, spraying curious shards of ice with the impact.
The bear dissolved into nothing. As a summoned entity, it had never been alive in the first place. That didn’t seem to quell the fury of the second bear, though, as it attempted to trample the axe-wielder. He was too quick, darting back despite the cumbersome axe. Already, the bald raider was taking aim for another fiery blast. He shot, searing the second bear’s flank and sending it off its chosen course. The two raiders were working in tandem, and it was a potent strategy. The flaw in it quickly became obvious, however. While the dire bears were certainly eye-catching and scary, they weren’t the only threats on the battlefield.
Before another blast could exit the gauntlet, a sword came smashing down on top of it. Timuscor had appeared from behind, and while he could have killed the man outright, he’d instead chosen to disrupt the attack. That would make for a harder fight, but Timuscor was the right person for the job. He’d gotten fire-warding on his shield when they geared up in Camnarael, so if anyone could handle this particular threat in a one-on-one match, it was Timuscor. The problem was making sure it stayed a one-on-one match—already the axe-wielder was stepping closer, looking to horn in on the battle.
Lifting his staff, Grumph began to mumble once more. Only this time, it wasn’t pageantry. He hurriedly cast one of his own spells, a blast of fire that roared from the tip of his bone blade on a crash course for the axe raider. His attack was blocked by the flat of the axe, flames sizzling to steam as they hit the unnaturally cold surface of the weapon. From his vantage point, Grumph could just make out the grin on his enemy’s face. It was a short-lived moment of victory, as the raider turned to see Grumph with a toothy smile all his own. The fire hadn’t been about hitting; it had been about distracting.
From behind, a still-smoking and angry dire bear slammed into the axe-wielder. The first blast might have put it off, but these weren’t mere wild animals: they were summons being controlled by Jolia. She’d sent it back around, and with his attention on Grumph’s magic, the raider was looking in the wrong direction to see it charge.
To his credit, the man fought valiantly, trying to maneuver the oversized axe into a viable striking position, but the bear was relentless. Grumph didn’t actually hear the crunch, but he saw the raider’s body go limp. After a quick glance to make sure Timuscor was still up, the half-orc turned his attention to the rest of the battlefield. It wouldn’t do to have a pair of object lessons in the importance of paying attention and then make the same error himself.
Things had only gotten crazier. Several raiders perched on top of a stone horse that had appeared from nowhere. One seemed to have turned into a strange tree-creature that was fighting two dire bears at once, and all around, Grumph could see sparks and spells shooting into the air. These items were powerful, that much was clear. Perhaps too powerful. The raiders may well have been better served using tools they could properly control, rather than ones stronger than they could handle. Another good lesson to keep in mind for the future: functionality was better than raw power. Then again, raw power certainly did have its uses.
Taking a few steps back, Grumph ducked behind the remaining dire bear near him, one that had stayed behind specifically for this purpose. To seem like he was casting this next spell, it would take some time. With his friends busy, the bear would have to serve as his bodyguard until the task was done. Grumph pressed his back into the beast’s furry side, then lifted his staff high enough that it could be seen over the enormous creature and began to chant nonsense once more.
* * *
Elnif raced out from under the heavy paw of a dire bear, rolling to safety just in time. As a raider of the plains, one who had ascended to middle-rider, he’d seen many battles in his time. None of them were like this. On top of the fact that the few defenders of this town were proving to be far more dangerous than expected, their own weaponry was putting them in peril. Huberf had dissolved into ash when he pressed the topmost rune on a magical wand they’d found, Galzim was impaled on sharp spears he’d accidentally summoned from the ground with an amulet, and Pelsor had turned into some kind of tree-monster. Granted, that last one was coming in handy, thanks to the sudden influx of bears, but it was still an issue they were going to have to deal with.
Having a slightly sharper, lighter sword didn’t seem like quite the bad deal it had earlier in the day. At least Elnif’s weapon probably wasn’t going to be the cause of his death. No, that honor would most likely go to one of the odd people who’d greeted their band when they rode into town. Who would have imagined that a crooked gnome could be so deadly with those daggers, or that a half-orc wizard could conjure such fearsome allies? It was all too much, and not for one moment did Elnif believe this to be a coincidence. Something had led them here. Something had orchestrated this. It had all been too perfect, too easy, until suddenly, everyone he knew was fighting for their lives. If he survived, Elnif would hunt whoever did this to them for the rest of his days. But this was not a situation where he could take survival as a given.
Shoving his way through various magical effects, overwhelmed with light and sound, Elnif found himself suddenly outside the fray, standing in the peaceful morning sunshine that was still beaming down upon them. This was insanity. Surely there had to be a way to put an end to what was happening. True, Pavtu was the one who’d rejected the offer of peace, but that was before suspecting they’d been set up. Maybe if he could get to Pavtu now, they could convince everyone to throw down their arms. Even as he had the thought, Elnif knew it to be pure fantasy. The front-riders would never listen, not with enemies to fight and supposed treasure to claim. That drive was what had earned them those positions in the first place.
Shade fell upon Elnif’s brow, and as he looked up, he noticed clouds swirling in the sky, ones that hadn’t been there seconds prior. With a quick scan, he saw the half-orc’s distinctive staff poking up from behind a dire bear. Their wizard was casting again, and if it was half as bad as the last spell, it might very well put an end to this battle entirely. Elnif couldn’t let that happen. Wrong or not, aggressors or not, this band of raiders was all he had. Until the end, he would fight for them.
Bolting forward, Elnif tried to circle around the bear, hoping he might get enough speed for a clean strike before the creature could react. Before he could draw near, something else leapt from the sea of chaos that was the battlefield. A pale woman with black hair, clad in blood-red armor and swinging a dangerous-looking axe, shot forth at exceptional speeds before planting herself directly in Elnif’s path to the wizard.
“Sorry. Grumph’s a little busy at the moment. You’ll have to content yourself with me.”
Not ideal. She was fast, and from the way she swung that axe, probably strong as well. But she wasn’t exploding with unpredictable magical energy, so that at least made her an enemy that could be properly fought. She was aggressive, the way she’d dashed over made that clear, so his likeliest shot at victory was to put her on the defensive. After what he’d seen so far, Elnif didn’t want to fight any of these people at their best.
Without warning, Elnif charged, sword at the ready. He opened with a thrust, which she dodged rather than block, arcing her axe upward in a slice that would have opened Elnif’s stomach if he hadn’t already been
backpedaling. Just as he’d thought, her version of defense was more attacking. If he could last long enough to get a read on her habits, it might be possible to catch her off guard during a counter.
Another rush from Elnif, this time bringing his blade around from the side. She blocked, but when their weapons met, neither was prepared for what happened. A pulse of magic rippled out from the point of impact, shaking first the weapons, then the arms of those who held them. Both retreated momentarily until the quivering slowed.
“Nice sword. Not many weapons come away from touching my axe unscathed.” Her arms had already stilled; she’d regained control faster than him. Bad as that was, better he knew upfront. It meant Elnif would be at a disadvantage every time she blocked, so he’d have to try pushing her to dodge instead.
She readied her weapon once more, yet waited for him to recover. Evidently, he’d done well enough to deserve a fight with honor. Or she was toying with her food before going in for the kill. It didn’t change anything, regardless. Elnif had to try to stop that wizard, and that meant somehow getting past this woman.
Making sure his arms had steadied, Elnif stepped in for another attack, hoping dearly that she wouldn’t try to block this one.
19.
In addition to the glowing gauntlet, Timuscor’s opponent pulled out a mace with his left hand. Fire magic and a melee weapon together made things more complicated, but given the general madness engulfing them, it was really only one more thing to keep track of. Much as he didn’t care to admit it, to the others or himself, Timuscor often felt the most at peace in the havoc of battle. When the world boiled down like this, consolidating into the fundamental concept of not dying, it left no room for the doubts and questions that haunted him endlessly. In these moments, it didn’t matter who he was, how he’d come to be, or what place there was for him in the world now. All that counted was his skill with a blade and a shield; that, and that alone, would determine who survived to see another day.
The bald man opened with a shot from the gauntlet. The fireball was big and bright, but it still sizzled uselessly against Timuscor’s shield. The wards had withstood a direct fire attack from the mouth of a dragon; it would take more than hastily-cobbled heat spells to break through. As the flames cleared, Timuscor realized his enemy had already reached that conclusion. The bald man came in swinging, whipping his mace through the soft haze of smoke created by the burst of fire. A good move, yet one that was perhaps a tad too predictable. Timuscor was already moving back, shifting his position so he could deflect the second blow. It rang hard against his shield, but by the time his sword was in motion, the bald raider was already pedaling out of range, aware he’d just opened for a counter.
“You fight well.” Turning the mace out, the raider slammed the butt of it twice against his chest, thudding against his leather armor. “I am Rulln, a rider of the front and feared combatant.”
“Timuscor. A knight, for now.” He didn’t let the conversation dull his focus, and it was a good thing. No sooner had Rulln nodded did he bolt forward, swinging the mace as though trying to shatter stone. It crashed heavily against Timuscor’s shield, like Rulln was simply driving him back. Timuscor almost countered before thinking better of it; Rulln had been fighting too smart to make such a blatant blunder now.
Instead of swinging, Timuscor jumped back and to the side. It turned out to be the best move he could have made, as a sudden burst of fire tore through where he’d been standing. Of course. Shooting first, and then using the mace hadn’t worked, so Rulln had switched it up. He’d decided to open with the mace, then used the gauntlet when Timuscor moved his shield to attack. A good tactic, if a limited one. Despite the difference in their power, Timuscor couldn’t help noticing that Rulln was fighting with a somewhat constrained skill set for a warrior with his rank. Then, as he watched Rulln flex the fingers of the gauntlet, it clicked. Rulln wasn’t using much variety because he’d probably never fought with a magic fire glove before. Instead of depending on his tried and true tactics, Rulln was betting heavily on his shiny new toy to make up the difference. There might be a lesson worth contemplating in that revelation somewhere, but for Timuscor, there was only one salient takeaway at the moment: he needed to press the attack before Rulln could get comfortable.
Shield at the ready, Timuscor charged forward. As he’d expected, Rulln reacted by shooting more fire. To his credit, the bald raider was smart enough to aim for Timuscor’s legs. Reacting with well-trained speed, Timuscor dropped his shield position and angled it downward, sending the torrent of heat directly into the ground. Rulln was the one charging now, mace already whipping through a powerful swing to capitalize on Timuscor’s lowered position. A sound move, one intended to take him by surprise, but a tactic that came with serious drawbacks when it was predicted.
Timuscor’s shield was in place overhead as the mace came down; he felt the impact at the same time he thrust his own blade forward. The leather armor favored by the raiders was well-worn, which meant it was sturdy enough to have lasted for some while. That said, such armor was meant for front-facing defense, with the fastening mechanisms in the rear. Rather than try to punch through Rulln’s leg armor, Timuscor used the proximity and position to maneuver his sword through the raider’s legs, then turn it sideways and pull it as deeply through Rulln’s right calf as possible.
A piercing howl of pain split the world around them as Timuscor shoved Rulln back with his shield, sending him tumbling back on the bloodied leg and allowing Timuscor enough room to retreat a few paces. Rulln was injured, but so long as he held that gauntlet, he was still a serious threat. Stepping forward carefully, blade held at the ready, Timuscor addressed his adversary.
“Take off the gauntlet, throw down your weapons, and this need not end in death. You have committed a crime, but I am sure the people of this town will jail you for it rather than see you dead in the streets. We are acting as guardians, not murderers. You have the power to help the killing end.”
Rulln sucked a breath through his teeth as he glanced down at the blood gushing from his leg. “To you, I know this must be honor, showing mercy to a downed foe. But on the plains of Urthos, we have our own kind of honor. The only way to live here, to survive on this path we’ve chosen, is to fight with your life on the line every time. Those who cannot would have broken and run long ago.” He sat up, flexing the fingers of his gauntlet once more. “To die wiping a dangerous enemy from the battlefield is the greatest death of all.”
With a sudden movement, Rulln grasped the gauntlet into a fist and held it. Timuscor could see the glow intensifying, but what it would lead to was anyone’s guess. He did a quick scan of the area to be sure none of his friends were nearby, then backed up quickly with his shield at the ready. Based on what he’d seen so far, the most likely result would be one hell of a fire spell.
In a way, Timuscor was right. The first effect was an explosion, although admittedly a smaller one than he’d been expecting. For a heartbeat, Timuscor felt relieved; something like that might very well have killed Rulln in the process. That hope was short-lived, as Rulln began to rise from the ground. Only.. it wasn’t really Rulln anymore. He was burning from head to toe, covered in flames that were slowly charring his skin. Flames that were unnatural, almost forming a face to stare at Timuscor, flames using Rulln’s body as a platform.
While not a mage, Timuscor did have basic deductive abilities. Lively flames coming from a gauntlet that were moving a steadily burning body—the best guess was that Rulln had activated some aspect of the gauntlet and was using himself as fuel for whatever it had summoned. The fiery monster that had once been a raider turned toward Timuscor, rearing back and letting loose a torrent of flame from the remains of Rulln’s mouth.
This time, it was closer to dealing with dragon fire. The flames had tremendously increased in both number and intensity. Rulln’s corpse was more dangerous than the man himself. On the upside, at the rate he was decaying, he probably wouldn’t be in the fight v
ery much longer. The downside, however, was that attacks like that could still do real damage in short order. Given his shield and the others’ roles, Timuscor was the one best suited to draw this monster’s attention. He slammed his sword against his shield to avoid losing once-Rulln’s notice.
“I’d expect a spell that uses a life as a component to be more powerful. Rulln clearly made a poor trade.” Whether or not insults would work on this kind of creature was pure speculation, but it wasn’t as though Timuscor risked anything by trying. He had to do anything he could to keep the attention on him until this was over, or the others had been freed up.
Unfortunately, it worked. The burning corpse dashed forward, slamming its gauntleted hand against his shield and sending Timuscor stumbling back. Whatever else the magic was doing, it had also made Rulln substantially stronger. Already, Timuscor could feel the ache in his arm from absorbing even one blow. Many more like that would drive him to the ground. And since Rulln was already decaying, it was hard to imagine a few simple sword strikes would do much of anything to him.
There was nothing to do but survive. Keep fighting, hold the line, live to protect his friends. So long as he could accomplish that, Timuscor would take a deadly opponent off the field. He just hoped Thistle had some healing magic left over when this was all done. At the rate things were going, Timuscor was definitely going to need it.
