by Drew Hayes
“Grumph, cast the invigoration on me,” Eric said. “I’ve got a plan.”
“Does it have anything to do with the giant shape running toward us?” Gabrielle pointed over her shoulder, where a mighty mound of metal was gleaming in the moonlight. Eric paused to wonder when the dark haze of the dome had vanished, but his attention was quickly captured by the creature’s surprisingly graceful movements.
“Shockingly, no, it does not.” Eric held his arm out for Grumph to cast on; they didn’t have much time to lose. “But I am extremely curious to see where that goes.”
* * *
Timuscor could hear the others talking, though he was too far off to make out what they were saying, especially as he dove under another massive fist digging into the ground. His armor, normally a saving grace against enemies, was hindering his movements, making it harder to dodge. Even as strength beyond his own surged through his limbs, those same appendages were locked away in the suit of metal. He needed mobility, but the priestess would hardly agree to a pause so he could strip some bits of armor away. Fortunately, Timuscor knew he wasn’t alone. He hadn’t understood why Mr. Peppers had run off during the explosion, not until he heard the charge approaching. Of course, at his new size, the boar would need more room for a running start.
To his surprise, Timuscor realized he didn’t even need to look away. He could feel Mr. Peppers’ movements, even from a distance. The same divine glow that now permeated Timuscor was radiating from his partner, only it didn’t feel new. This had always been Mr. Peppers; he’d been ready since the first day. Timuscor was the one who’d needed to catch up, and now that he had, the boar’s true power was finally on display.
As dangerous as Timuscor’s blade was, the thundering sound of an enormous, armor-covered boar rushing toward her was enough to draw some of the priestess’s attention away from the weapon. Her arm rose, aiming those damned vines, but Timuscor rushed the other side, taking advantage of the distraction. With two threats closing in, the priestess chose to stop the paladin rather than the big pig.
That turned out to be a poor decision. Mr. Peppers’ now-enormous tusks tore a slice through the back of her left leg, leaving a flash of blue-white flames smoldering briefly in the wound. Her scream was equal parts pain and frustration as she turned her eyes toward the large, escaping form. “How? How did you bless a mere animal already?”
“I didn’t. Mr. Peppers needs no blessings, for he shares all of mine.” Timuscor held out a hand as the huge boar passed him, taking hold of a grip in the armor and swinging onto the massive metal back. May the heavens bless Shandor. That smith had realized this might happen and built the armor to accommodate a rider. “He’s my partner, you see. For what is a paladin without his trusty mount?”
Timuscor swept the battlefield as Mr. Peppers ran, his faithful companion easily destroying the issue of mobility. Thistle was up, daggers in hand. Gabrielle and Grumph were recovering slowly; neither would likely be able to jump in again soon. Eric was running, but not toward the priestess. It looked almost as if he was fleeing the battle. Then Timuscor looked a touch ahead of Eric, and understanding set in. He turned back to Thistle, who simply nodded.
In a way, it was the simplest plan there was, a classic that dated back to the earliest days of their legends and myths: the paladin held the enemy’s attention while the rogue snuck around. Timuscor liked that; there was something to be said for the classics. Especially in perilous situations. With one touch, he turned Mr. Peppers, sending his mount back toward the priestess.
As a knight, Timuscor had received ample training in both riding and fighting on horseback. Riding a giant boar was a different experience, yet it all felt strangely familiar. Perhaps it was part of being a paladin, or the simple fact that he was connected to the creature he rode, but Timuscor was completely comfortable after less than a minute on Mr. Peppers’ back. A fortunate break, because they were going to have to work together if they wanted to survive.
The moment they drew near, a fresh wave of vines shot out, arcing for Mr. Peppers’ legs. He made no attempt to dodge, permitting the vines to wrap around his legs as fast as they could, and tearing them apart with every heavy step. The moment the vines hit Mr. Peppers’ skin, they wilted, their magic faltering, leaving them as little more than true weeds—the sort easily uprooted. At least they’d be able to get close without much issue, not that things would be easier once they were within fist-swinging range.
Her first attack came down hard, sending a spray of dirt across Mr. Peppers’ side as he jerked left, avoiding the blow. That order hadn’t come from Timuscor, nor did the next one, which led to Mr. Peppers suddenly speeding up to avoid a glancing strike. Mr. Peppers wasn’t just running; he was the one in charge of their route and defense, freeing Timuscor up to focus on fighting. The paladin did precisely that, and when the next fist swung down, he was ready.
Mr. Peppers banked hard to the right, avoiding the descending arm, but Timuscor leaned left with his sword raised, raking the blade across the priestess’s arm. While he couldn’t slash deeply at that angle, the howl of pain from the priestess proved how effective even a minor wound was. His blade caused her serious pain, even when only cutting her armor. What would happen if he could finally manage to pierce her flesh? With any luck, something bad for her and good for them, though Timuscor was a long way off from landing such a blow. He was harassing her, keeping her attention on him so she wouldn’t think to go after the others. If she tried, they both knew he’d capitalize and she’d regret it.
Unfortunately, that left them in something of a stalemate. She had trouble hitting him atop Mr. Peppers, and Timuscor couldn’t get near enough to do any real damage without her retreating. Something would have to give, or it would come down to a battle of skills.
Behind the priestess, Timuscor caught sight of a slinking figure. He urged Mr. Peppers to charge once more. If there was any chance of this working, he needed the priestess to be completely focused on him. One stray glance, and this day would take a very bloody, tragic turn.
Spurring his boar on faster, Timuscor lifted the glowing blade high, making sure the priestess knew that he was coming to do harm. As she lowered her stance to face him, the figure behind her made a quick hop and left Timuscor’s line of sight. There was no reaction from the priestess, meaning Timuscor had succeeded in distracting her. Now, he had to make sure her attention never wandered.
After all, it would be a poor showing if, on his first outing as a paladin, he couldn’t even serve as a proper distraction for a climbing rogue.
53.
Was there any way to be prepared for scaling a giant enemy who would crush you to bits upon discovery? If so, Eric had to imagine that he was as close as one could possibly come. His body still tingled with the augmentation Grumph had given him—enough strength to pull his short sword from the ground at last. The magical boots had brought him here swiftly, and his color-camouflaging armor helped him make the approach unseen. Grumph had even lent Eric the magical ring, offering him some chance of survival if he was caught. So many things were in his favor, yet Eric felt woefully out of his depth as he leapt onto the back of the priestess’s dense leg armor.
She showed no reaction when he landed on her, her attention fully on Timuscor. That was the first hurdle cleared: either she couldn’t feel things on this armor, or sensation was subdued enough to not notice a human slowing her down. How strong was she that she didn’t even notice his weight? More determined than ever not to find out firsthand, Eric started to climb, making his way higher up her body.
At fifteen feet, it wasn’t an especially tall height to scale; however, the going was difficult. On top of having to stay unnoticed and silent, Eric had to carefully avoid the scores of thorns poking out from the bark-like armor itself. No doubt, the protection was meant to stave off precisely this kind of assault. Too bad for the priestess, Eric had been trained by one of the most merciless, and talented, rogues he’d ever heard of. Elora’s teaching me
thods were brutal, yet, as Eric swung up from the leg to the lower back, avoiding piercing his flesh, it was hard not to feel a swell of gratitude for her.
He was forced to momentarily halt his climb, as Timuscor came into range and slashed at the priestess while she did her best to hit him right back. If she’d punched him down instead of over the first time, Timuscor would certainly have been crushed, and Eric suspected she was dearly regretting that mistake. Of course, it meant she’d be less likely to make it again, which added to the precariousness of Eric’s situation.
When Timuscor rode past, swinging wide in a circle, Eric began to move once more. It wouldn’t be long before the next engagement; Timuscor was purposefully keeping her off balance and defensive. The priestess moved too much in battle, so Eric had to make the most of these windows. He got halfway up her back before Timuscor returned, forcing him to hang on while his target darted to and fro, trying to strike without being hit in return.
Another pause, and Eric made it to just below the priestess’s shoulders. Almost there; one more climb would get him home. Unfortunately, Timuscor’s charge forced the priestess to literally jump backward, lifting and then slamming Eric roughly down against her back. He winced as a few thorns pressed tight against his chest, not quite puncturing his armor. Mentally thanking Grumph for the loan of his ring, which had almost certainly made the difference, Eric groaned inwardly. Despite his control and lack of sound, the jig was already up.
“What?” The priestess started to turn toward him. Of course. When he’d come down hard on her back, she must have felt the impact. With no chance to think, he had to make a choice in the moment. There was enough time to drop and run; he was limber and could dodge a few attacks if needed. That was on the ground, though. Up here, he was an easy target. Sadly, Eric also knew that if he took that route, she’d be wary for more climbers. This trick either worked now, or not at all.
Using his augmented strength for all it was worth, Eric hurled himself upward, onto the priestess’s shoulder. Thorns punched into his left palm as he took the first grip he could find. Stealth was no longer a priority, nor was safety. Everything that wasn’t speed lost all relevance. Using his free, uninjured hand, Eric whipped out his short sword. Nearby, he noticed Timuscor drawing close with another charge. Good. She would need to split her attention, and that meant one of them would have a chance to land a blow.
Her left hand reached across her chest, on a direct path to knock Eric from her shoulders, while her right came plummeting down toward Timuscor and Mr. Peppers. Neither strike was as accurate as it should have been, the split attention showing itself. Timuscor easily dodged his blow while leaving a wound on her armor, and Eric narrowly got out of the way, throwing himself onto the priestess’s head. More thorns tore into his left hand as he took careful hold of an armored section on her brow.
“A pest. A useless pest who would sting me with a metal weapon my skin will repel. You are infuriatingly stubborn prey. Accept Kalzidar’s judgment!”
“Going to have to politely decline that offer.” Eric swung up while he spoke, building momentum as he saw both her hands coming to snap him in half. “Also, in your next life, I would urge you to learn one simple fact about humanoid bodies. There’s a reason the ravishers lack sight. Eyes don’t have skin.”
Coming back down from the swing, Eric used all of his momentum and augmented strength to stab his short sword directly into her enormous right eyeball.
* * *
If Timuscor thought his own attacks drew shrieks of pain, it was nothing on the horrendous howl that split the battlefield when Eric struck. Her hands were already on course to claw the rogue, who was still drawing small flashes of light as he attacked, making sure the damage was done. The instant she caught Eric, he’d be dead, which meant that Timuscor couldn’t allow her to succeed. Thankfully, Eric had had the good sense to wait until Timuscor was already charging and nearly upon her.
For the first time in the fight, Timuscor and Mr. Peppers were able to get close to the priestess without having to dodge her attacks. Using the freedom, Timuscor rose high on his mount’s back, leaning in and slashing at the priestess’s leg as he passed. Unlike previous strikes, this one was able to bite deep, past the armor, and into her supposedly protected flesh. Several runes along the blade flashed as Timuscor made contact, leaving a trail of blue-white fire burning on the outer side of her left leg.
Evidently, the flames must have hurt. This time, it wasn’t her armor or her vines that were aflame; it was the priestess herself. Those clutching hands suddenly changed direction, all thought of her eye momentarily dispelled by the need to put out the flames on her leg before they could spread.
Practically speaking, it was the right call; Timuscor couldn’t fault her for it. If that fire spread, she could be roasted before there was time to act. But every action in battle came with a cost—doing one task meant that there were others left unattended to. In this case, saving her own life left a rogue with a blessed weapon free to do as he pleased for the next few seconds.
Such a mistake wasn’t lost on Eric, who immediately took hold of a chunk of armor along her nose and flipped around so that he was now looking at her left eye. For the priestess, Eric must have filled up her entire field of sight. It was the last image to be burned into her vision before the steel struck.
Timuscor heard the screech before he saw the flashes. He was getting close again, ready to provide Eric with a distraction, but the rogue leapt clear of the priestess and rolled along the grass before coming to a stop. Eric rose quickly, giving Timuscor a thumbs-up. It was done; the priestess had been blinded. As a rogue, he couldn’t hope to help with the magical armor that still protected her and the ravisher-fortified skin. So instead, he’d made Timuscor’s task easier.
The flames on the priestess’s legs had gone out after she smothered them, so her hands were free to grope aimlessly along the ground. With her vision gone, she knew Timuscor would be coming, just not from where. For a moment, he hesitated. Was this right? Was there honor in slaying a weakened opponent? His vision turned to the still-wounded bodies of Grumph and Gabrielle, where Thistle tended to them. This woman served evil; she had tried to murder several of his friends without remorse and would kill many more if given the chance. The paladin’s resolve set. He’d sworn to stand against evil, and that meant seeing things through to the end.
Although there was clearly no hiding the sound of a giant boar making a charge, merely knowing the direction he was coming from wasn’t enough. Mr. Peppers had been capable of dodging when she’d made targeted attacks; he easily slipped around as she smashed the ground in futile fury now. Timuscor lined up his own slice carefully, starting a new fire as he carved deep into her right calf.
Shrieking, the priestess stumbled as she tried to smother the flames, her weakened leg buckling under the weight, bringing her to a knee. This was what Timuscor had been waiting for. Rather than ride Mr. Peppers out wide for momentum, Timuscor circled him right back around. Over the sound of her own fury and pain, the slower boar managed to slip in close. Timuscor got as high as he could, sword at the ready.
Mr. Peppers ran directly into her left leg, causing her to sway unsteadily. Timuscor, however, had a different target. Using her lowered position and his height atop the boar, he drove his sword deep into her abdomen—through the armor, through the skin, and into her organs. True, between the armor and the size difference, his weapon couldn’t reach very far, but the blow landed clean just the same. When Timuscor pulled his blade out, it wasn’t fire that met his eyes. Rather, a burning light shone from the wound, growing steadily in intensity.
On instinct, Timuscor urged Mr. Peppers back, guiding the boar away as fast as they could get. It proved to be a wise decision, as soon a wave of dark bile escaped the priestess’s mouth, washing over and killing the grass at her feet. Her armor began to fall away in jagged, rotten chunks, and her grassy sections withered before their eyes.
The priestess was shrin
king as the light grew brighter, her power rolling off in waves. From somewhere in her foliage, the staff holding a piece of the Bridge clattered to the ground. Had she been able to see it, they might have worried, but as things stood, the priestess barely seemed to be holding on. Her hands were over the wound in her stomach, trying to smother a fire that wasn’t there. Timuscor understood. The fire was inside her now, burning away the dark magic infusing her body. It occurred to Timuscor that, were she able to hit him with a similar weapon of evil, he might very well endure the same process.
Moving steadily, Timuscor dismounted from Mr. Peppers and walked back toward the priestess. He noted that the others followed and made no move to stop them. If she still had a trick left, it was better they all see it so they could fight back. Standing over her, Timuscor looked down at the woman. She was dying, and fast. Soon, she would be beyond saving.
“It’s not too late. You still live. You still have the freedom of choice. That wound will kill you; I don’t think any of us could save you, even if it was right to do so. But your soul will live on. Do not allow Kalzidar to claim it. Renounce him, here and now, with sincerity in your heart. He is a cruel god to dwell with, even more so to those who have failed him.”
Despite being blinded and bleeding, the priestess managed a laugh. This was no chuckling at the gallows, either; there was sincere joy in her. “Failed him? Oh my, you may be a paladin now, but you have much to learn about the ways of gods. I have not failed my master at all. He ordered me to contain you all here, to fight you; he even gave me the freedom to kill all but Thistle. However, such was never my true task. I am a messenger, and in losing this fight, my message only becomes all the more important. Where is Thistle, enemy of Kalzidar? Have him come close so he can see the truth in my words.”
