Kismet took up the rear in case we were ambushed from behind, while Corvus and Judia slipped into stealth to check for rogues. We found one soon enough, and Corvus latched onto them with their chain and yanked them from the roof above. Judia took out another with an arrow. Kismet charged in to keep both their attention.
There was a third, though. The alleyways were filled with puddles of water from the citizens trying to put out fires. I spotted him, a Wode with the wiry build of a street brawler and a strong jaw riddled with stubble, as his image was reflected in a pool of water under my feet. I called out, but my voice died in my throat as he sunk a blade into my right kidney. He pulled me back to him with his left arm around my throat. The light of my Ubiquity shield lit up the dark alley, and the man dropped me in shock. I shifted off my knees to look at him, holding my side as blood seeped through my fingers.
“Why?” I gasped.
The grin faded from his lips, as if he’d expected one shot to finish the job. He glanced behind me and spotted the other two rogues dead and scowled. With a wave of his hand, he popped back into stealth. I started casting a heal, but even on several doses of Affka, the nauseating pain pulsed in my side and made it hard to whisper the prayers.
Yvonne searched for a card in her deck while Judia was at my side in an instant. She pulled out a Wound Poultice and slapped it on my flank, bandaging it tightly to stem the bleeding. I managed to get off my stronger HoT to at least give me the quick heal before doubling over and emptying dinner onto the street. The 25% damage-mitigating effect of Affka saved me and bought me a few precious seconds, but whomever the man was, he was much higher level, and we didn’t stand a chance if we followed him. Yvonne heaved a sigh of relief when she found her Panacea card and flung it in my direction. Green healing light surrounded me and filled my Health bar.
I staggered to my feet. Kismet took one arm and Corvus the other, but I pushed them off.
“I’m fine,” I breathed. “I’m fine.”
“Sister!” cried a familiar voice behind us.
I spun on my heels and waved my hand across my throat to tell them to cut it out. I didn’t need more attention on me right now. Ubiquity had a cooldown, and I didn’t plan on dying today.
Therion, Kjen, Robby, Matt, and Rose ran to us, weapons drawn. My muscles relaxed to see them alive and well still.
“Where’d he go?” asked Kjen, looking around.
Kismet stepped in front of me and raised her shield. Judia nocked an arrow. Yvonne rolled her eyes and motioned for them to stand down.
“They’re with us,” she said, as if she were the one who’d spent yesterday morning with them.
“Isn’t that my line?” I asked, staring at her. Everyone ignored me.
Kismet lowered her shield and held out a hand for Therion, who shook it.
“Inquisitor, good to finally meet you,” he said simply.
With more rogues to keep an eye out for those in stealth, we managed to make it to the gates. A horde of people had gathered there already, pressing against each other, some ready to fight, others to flee. Several guards, ranged mages, and archers lined the high stone wall, firing at something we couldn’t see.
Judia sent up her falcon again and reported back to us. Her blanched skin told us it was a second ambush for sure. She described shadow cannons, hulking black metal beasts on enormous, spiked wheels, rolling up on the gates of Rowanheath, manned by two heavily armored men and a few engineers.
“Rowanheath has withstood a siege before,” said Yvonne. “It lasted four months. We’ll be fine. Rowanheath was built to stand against legions.”
“That’s true,” said Kismet, “but they’re already inside the gates.”
“You think it was the Smuggler’s Guild?” asked Yvonne.
“I wouldn’t put it past them to sell us out. They always go to the highest bidder,” muttered Kismet. She bit her lip, thinking, then grabbed Therion by the beard. “Some informants you are! Why didn’t you pick up on this? You didn’t hear anything at the Broken Dagger?”
“Not a word, ma’am,” said Therion. “We just got here a few days ago, like everyone else. You think something this big would be said around scrubs like us?”
I put a hand on Kismet’s arm to still her. “I think he’s telling the truth.”
Kismet let him go and turned to Judia. “What else do you see?”
We didn’t need Judia to tell us. A heartbeat later, a pair of fireballs streaked across the star-strewn sky, leaving twin tails of embers burning brightly in their wake.
“It was a signal, “said Judia. “More people have come out of the tree line. Only seventy fighters... no, wait. They’re summoning things. Minions. They have warlocks with skeletons. Minor elementals. Lesser Demon Lords. There’s—”
Judia cried out and dropped to her knees. Corvus caught her. I glanced up and spotted the falcon careening out of the sky. Kismet dropped her sword and shield and flew up on her brown wings to catch the little bird. The Accipiter woman couldn’t get much further than a story or two off the ground in her heavy plate armor, but it did slow the bird’s descent.
I healed them both up. The falcon peeked out of Kismet’s arms and blinked at us, tilting its head this way and that, before flapping its wings and perching on Judia’s arm. The archer hugged him and petted his head.
“You did good. I am so sorry you got hurt,” she cooed at him.
The Arcane Shadow Cannons exploded in a cacophony of sound and magic. Orbs the size of wrecking balls, burning with ghostly purple flame, ripped through the night and screamed their way towards Rowanheath’s outer wall. We scattered for cover and braced ourselves as the barrage of cannon fire smashed against stone and splashed unnatural fire over everything in a ten-foot radius. The wall quivered under the assault, and chunks of rock cracked and tumbled away. Smoke rose beyond the gate from the field on fire.
Once more, Grim Jack the rebel leader brought his dragon sweeping over the city.
And once more, the citizens tried to push their way out of the gates. Some tried to rally others to fight, some tried to gather their loved ones to flee being trapped. A few noticed me and my priest robes, and raised up a call that repeated throughout the crowd. Several groups broke from the crowd and rushed me instead.
Kismet and Therion and my friends formed a protective circle around me.
“A priestess,” cried the crowd in relief. “Help us!” they pleaded.
I recognized Sten and Amanda, with little Bjorn in her arms, and heaved a sigh of relief. I waved them forward and gave Amanda and the child a tight hug.
“I’m so relieved,” I said. I let them go and turned to Sten. I chewed my words carefully. I remembered what I’d said to him. I knew exactly how what I was saying would sound.
“Do you have any Affka on you?” I asked.
Sten’s expression fell. He pursed his lips and dug into his pocket for a syringe and handed it to me, guilty, and braced for admonishment. Instead, his jaw dropped, horrified, when I took the vial and jabbed it into the meat of my thigh through my robes.
I could not risk going through withdrawal right now, even though that’s exactly what I’d asked of him the other day. Even with the loss of Intelligence and Spirit, I had enough to keep heals up, and I wouldn’t be able to heal at all if I was dead. The damage mitigation was worth the addiction because under no circumstances could I die. One, I didn’t want to, and two, if I was dead, no one would be healed. That included all the citizens here. That included Kismet.
Sten, Amanda, and Kismet stepped back as the needle sunk into my leg. I felt the tingling rush of the Affka in my veins and relaxed. It was only temporary, a necessary evil, I told myself. Their faces showed disappointment, but I hoped they understood the situation like I did.
The others in the group seemed to remember me, and those that didn’t were quickly reminded of who I was by those that did. Liset the Blessed, a hero who rose quickly through the ranks of her temple due to her uncanny and unique heal
ing abilities, a woman who defied the Darklings and rescued a score of people from the Black Temple near Ankara. Surely she will save us, they prayed amongst themselves.
I didn’t feel very blessed.
Where were the Knights of the Holy Light? Where was the Templar order that the Commissar thought was so important I needed to risk damning a whole elven city and bringing an Aetherlicht on my head for? Where was the leadership that stepped up after the first wave was assassinated?
Instead of Templars, we had glory seekers in heavy plate trying to push the gatehouse open. Someone upstairs cranked the portcullis, which made our hearts skip a collective beat. Kismet and Judia, as well as several other warriors, stepped forward, calling for them to stop, but the person didn’t listen. Judia sprinted up the stairs to stop the man.
I rushed forward and the crowd parted for me. A few of the tanks, eager and waiting on bouncing heels for action, spotted me and waved me over.
“Sister! Come out and heal us,” said a Wode wielding a battle-axe “We’ll take care of this in no time.”
“The hell you will,” I hissed. I grabbed him by the beard and pulled him to my level. “What are you going to do, tank the tanks? You’ll be literal cannon fodder. I can’t heal through that.”
He frowned and pushed me off. I reached out to the other tanks, but they ignored me.
A green-skinned Risi with a black Mohawk had stopped pushing on the gate to catch his breath. I approached him and gestured to the crowd.
“I need to get these people somewhere safe. And we need more tanks to protect us. Come with me, instead,” I pleaded.
The other tanks rolled their eyes at me and gave excuses that they wanted to curry favor with Emperor Osmark and the High Commander. I clenched my fists that they found that more important than literal lives. They must have been some of the people who won the lottery for a capsule and didn’t have to fight for one. War appealed to those that only heard the tales of glory but had never experienced it themselves, but I had seen battle, and knew no one truly won.
My shoulders slumped helplessly as the gate slid upwards with a creak. The crowd of tanks rushed out the door with a cheer. I circled my finger over my head to rally those around me, anyone who would listen, and retreated.
The Risi glanced between me and the other tanks, wiped the sweat off his brow, and slicked his hair back. Finally he drew a bardiche, a polearm with a nasty hooked axe at the end, and followed me. I smiled and gave him a nod.
“What’s your name?”
“Rainer. What’s yours?”
“Liset.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of you. You healed my friend’s daughter yesterday,” he said. “Tell me what to do, Lil’Bit.”
We retreated from the gate and hunkered down. Judia joined us and expressed her disappointment that she couldn’t find the man at the gatehouse. We didn’t know if it was a saboteur or one of us who’d lifted the gates.
As soon as the tanks cleared the gatehouse, arrows and spells fell on them like rain. Giant javelins of ice ripped through their metal armor and left several warriors limping or crawling back to the safety of the walls. I stood to heal them, regardless of what I had said before, but they were just out of range of my spells.
Rainer snatched my wrist to hold me back. The portcullis gate fell, trapping them outside the city walls. They screamed and called out for me. They saw me and reached for me. But I couldn’t do anything meaningful to save them. Still, I wanted to try. If we opened the gates—
My new Risi friend scooped me up in his arms before I ran into the line of arrows and tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I pounded against his back, demanding for him to let me go, to drop me, as he ran with our group further from the gate. I couldn’t stand to hear their screams or leave them to die. Another round of cannon fire collided with the wall and showered those cowering below with a ghostly shadow flame.
I went limp. I’d told them not to leave. The fools.
“You can’t do anything for them,” said Rainer, setting me down and holding me in place. “You’re right. We can’t fight, so our best hope is to survive.”
I stared at his armor in silence, unmoving, and noted how the metal plates fitted together to distract myself from the truth of his words.
“Nod if you understand, Lil’Bit,” he said.
I nodded. I understood. I didn’t like it, but I understood.
Rowanheath responded to the attacks with our own ballistae. A thunderous boom ripped through the night. The guards on top of the wall hauled out more ballistae and sent enormous bolts at Grim Jack’s troops with bone-shaking force. We weren’t entirely hopeless, not yet. I watched through the iron grating of the portcullis as we answered their assault. More like cruise missiles, the bolts exploded upon impact and sent skeletons and minions high into the sky in a geyser of earth and flame. Those nearby were knocked over like bowling pins. One bolt even broke a shadow cannon into pieces.
Kismet caught up with us, as did the rest of the group. Some of the crowd, seeing the tanks fall, decided to join us after all. It helped to see a Templar and a priest together. I pulled away from Rainer and threw myself into Kismet’s arms. The Accipiter held me, stroking my back, and wrapped her wings around me to shield me from prying eyes and let us speak in peace.
“We need to get back to the Keep,” whispered Kismet. “We had our orders for a reason.”
“Will the people be safe there?” I asked.
“Safer than here.”
In Absentia Lucis...
We backtracked, much to my immense disappointment and shame. It was both easier and harder to do so with a large group. On the one hand, we had more people available to fight if needed, and most of the rogues didn’t dare attack a horde. On the other hand, half of the twenty-five people I had gathered were not fighters, and any group became a target for the dragon. I was grateful for whatever help we were given though.
An Imperial Frostlock named Shiraz joined us along the way, a fierce, curvy woman with slick, short hair. She came to aid us against the fires that consumed the city. At the rate it was burning, I’d be surprised if Grim Jack had any town left to pillage.
By the time we spotted the Keep, our spirits had lifted some. I was parched and exhausted from trying to keep twenty-five people alive by myself, and ready to keel over. I took a moment to myself to convalesce while the group discussed the safest place to put the civilians. Corvus handed me one of my own Sunmilks to ward off the fatigue, and I smiled as I guzzled it down.
“We could use the Plague Tunnels,” suggested Therion.
I spit the drink out. “The what?”
Therion stepped back to spare his armor and laughed. “The Smuggler’s Guild uses them. They’re dangerous. But they’re safer than here.”
Three fireballs blazed a trail overhead, cutting through the dark like razor blades made of light. I frowned and looked for what new bullshit this signaled.
Sure enough, a Risi warrior and a Murk Elf archer popped out of the sewers riding [Spiderkin]. Many, many, many more of the creatures, all with riders, swarmed out of the sewers, following them. Our group huddled in the alleyway to stay out of sight, but several of them had the forethought to bite their hands to keep themselves from screaming and alerting the enemies to our presence.
“Gaia bless this cursed town,” muttered Yvonne. “They got Lowyth the Orbweaver on their side, too?”
Kismet touched my hand. “We have to defend the Keep. High Commander Carrera will be there. If we lose the Keep, if we abandon the commander, it’s all over. We just have to figure out a way to get through that portcullis,” she said, gesturing to the locked gate.
“Why aren’t the Keep Guardians activating?” wondered Yvonne out loud.
I wasn’t even going to question anymore how she, a Traveler like me, knew more about Rowanheath’s defenses. My priority was getting these people safe. Even those that could fight were under level compared to our enemies. If they had a rogue like t
he man who one-shot me in the alley, a high-level man like that, plus whoever the hell Lowyth was, they overpowered us tenfold. I had leveled up a lot in the past few days, more so than most common adventurers, but I had been given sacred missions from Gaia herself to protect the realm. I doubted the people in the Crimson Alliance were able to get above level 20 in the same timeframe without cheating or their own divine aid.
The latter I didn’t want to consider. I wished the Prioress of Sophia’s temple was here to pray for peace.
The dragon took another run and breathed shadow flame over the guards manning the ballistae on the wall. There was another person on the dragon’s back now, behind Grim Jack: Abby, a Firebrand who rained death and destruction as fearsome as the dragon itself. It hurt to put a name and face to our enemies. These were people. People who chose to murder us in our homes and assassinate the clergy in the streets.
They landed. The dragon tossed one warrior aside and chomped another’s head clean off. He picked up a third and darted back into the sky with a bluster of force, dropping the man to his death, screaming.
“Look!” said someone further away.
We peered around the corner of the alley and blanched.
The Spiderkin were back. They crept up the inner wall of the Keep in droves, their hairy legs scuffling along with ease, while their riders clung tightly for dear life, held in place by flimsy strands of silver webbing. The Risi and Murk Elf archer led the arachnoid formation. Kismet had been right. But even if we were inside, I wasn’t sure how we’d survive.
We heard a low growl and froze, then a rumbling creak of stone wrenched from stone as bulky creatures tore themselves from the Keep’s turrets. Each was easily the size and shape of a lion, with hulking limbs rippling with stone muscle and a face like an eagle: Griffins. They unfurled massive wings and drifted out on strong currents of air to defend the Keep. These must’ve been the Keep Guardians Yvonne mentioned. A whole platoon—thirty or forty strong—leapt from their posts and darted for the Spiderkin. The ambushers were nearly two-thirds of the way to the top before the Griffins knocked them off.
Viridian Gate Online: Schism: A litRPG Adventure (The Heartfire Healer Series Book 2) Page 22
