Battleborne

by Dave Willmarth

  You have earned three free attribute points.

  “Red, why am I just now seeing these? The battles ended hours ago.”

  “I told you I’ve learned a few things. Like how to keep notifications from popping up and distracting you in the middle of a fight. And how to combine things like loot and damage notifications into summaries. Now when you complete the requirements for a quest, it will not register as complete until you take the time to access your quest log.”

  “Okay, that is actually pretty helpful. Thank you, Red.” Max again had the urge to reach up and pat her on the back, but stopped himself. Replacing his quest log with his status sheet, he began assigning attribute points. He received three per level, which gave him thirty distributable points. As Red had suggested, he put three points into Agility and Dexterity, bringing them up to a base of twenty and fifteen. The rogue’s torc he’d found added points to both, as well as Luck. He added four points to Endurance, then ten points each to Wisdom and Intelligence. When he was done, he surveyed his sheet, trying to consider potential future needs before finalizing his choices.

  “Am I going to be okay putting so many points into Intelligence and Wisdom?”

  A quick glance at Red showed her nodding with approval. “Your constitution is much higher now, and the risk is low.”

  Max mentally clicked the button to approve the changes. His body tingled, and he watched as both his health and mana bars grew considerably. His ridiculously high Constitution now provided him with eight hundred health points, and his increased Wisdom had bumped his mana up to five hundred.

  Satisfied, he closed his eyes. “Good night, Red. Please wake me up at fifth bell?”

  “Sleep well, Max. You’ve earned it.” Max didn’t see the look of pride on Red’s tiny face.

  Maximilian StormHealth: 800/800

  Race: Chimera, Level 10 Mana: 500/500

  BattleborneExperience: 13,450/38,500

  Endurance: 24Intelligence: 25

  Strength: 28Wisdom: 24

  Constitution: 37Dexterity: 15 (17)

  Agility: 20 (22)Luck: 11 (14)

  Chapter 12

  Morning brought a quick breakfast in the mess hall, followed by a hike back down to the staging area. Max was almost able to tell where he was going now, this being his third trip through that particular route. Dalia chatted with him along the way, and he practiced his Nature’s Boon spell on any battle-weary dwarves he spotted going the opposite direction. It seemed the grey dwarves were still attempting to hold their breach point, or push further into the mines again. A few of the dwarves who passed Max looked as if they’d had some hard fighting. Dented and torn armor splashed with blood, tired eyes and slumped shoulders showed why they were being sent to the rear.

  Dalia sighed. “This’ll be some nasty work. Fightin’ the greys in their own territory will be slow and costly. There will be traps, ambush points that we dunno about, poisoned water… and the beasties.”

  “Beasties?” Max did his best to copy her pronunciation, just for fun.

  She glared at him for second in mock anger. “Remember the gems ye found? The greys like to capture the souls o’ the monsters from the deep dark, and won’t hesitate to unleash ‘em on us. Or they’ll simply drive them unbound, alone or in herds, into our path. Then try to ambush us from behind while we’re dealin’ with the beasties.”

  Another dwarf who’d been walking alongside them, added, “Aye, and they’ll wait fer our main force to get deep into their territory, then make another try up here. The defenders can’t close the breach, else we’ll not have a way home.”

  “Damn.” Max shook his head. “We’ve already killed a couple thousand of them. How many can they throw into this fight?”

  The dwarf spat on the ground at his feet. “We do not know. The clan we’ve been battlin’ for these many years did no’ have so many fighters. Two thousand is ten times more than they’ve sent against us before. There be whispers that another clan, maybe two, has joined em in their city.”

  “And, do we have the numbers to defeat them?”

  “Me king sent to his cousins for help. Our clan can field about four thousand warriors, at least half of which will need to remain behind to defend the breach, and guard against more. That’s after the nearly six hundred we’ve lost to this fight already. They’ll be tellin’ us more when we get there.”

  Max continued to cast his healing spell as they walked, and by the time they reached the staging area, he’d cast it enough that he increased it to level two. As Dalia had promised, the spell’s healing increased, but it went up more than she’d said. Instead of one hundred and fifty health points, it jumped up to two hundred. And the cost to cast reduced to thirty mana. When he asked Dalia about it, she smiled and shrugged.

  “It may be yer intelligence attribute kickin’ in. Or ye may have a greater than normal affinity to the magic. Or being part elf and part human is givin ye a racial bonus? In any case, it be a good thing!”

  Max did some quick math. With a mana pool of five hundred, and the reduced cost of thirty mana, he could cast sixteen heals before he was out of mana. He wanted to ask Red, who was riding along on his shoulder at the moment, what his mana regeneration rate was, but couldn’t do so with Dalia and others so close. His plan was to combine healing with casting his Confuse spell, which would drain his mana even faster. Though his increased attributes meant that the cost for Confuse had been reduced to fifteen mana, and channeling Drain was down to costing five per second.

  When he became low on mana, he’d switch to fighting. Either breaking through the front lines as the captain ordered, or using his bow from a distance, until his mana recharged.

  They finally reached the staging area, and Dalia led him over to where Rockbreaker stood. The captain was speaking to the replacements assigned to him after his recent losses.

  “By now ye’ve all hear’d what we can expect down there. But we be warriors o’ Darkholm, and no greys or their beasties be a match for us!” There was a roar of agreement from the whole company, which quickly spread to neighboring companies that were all trying to psych themselves up. Soon the cavern rang with the battle shouts of an entire dwarven army. Max roared right along with them, surprising some of the new fighters.

  The captain laughed when the noise died down and spoke again to the replacements. “This be Max. He’ll be fightin as one of us, and don’t ye doubt he’s earned the right to be here. If ye see this big fella chargin’ up behind ye, move out o’ the way! He likes to jump into the front n scare the piss outta the greys from time to time. And while they’re soiling their panties, we chop em down!” He reached up and patted Max’s shoulders as several of the company’s veterans that had already fought with him cheered.

  Max coughed slightly, then spoke quietly to the captain as he pulled out his new bow. “Captain, I have a new weapon here, but haven’t had a chance to test my skill. Is there a safe place I can take a few practice shots?”

  Rockbreaker took one look at the giant steel bow and laughed. “Aye, follow me.” He walked into a nearby side tunnel, then down to the first intersection, where he turned right. About a hundred feet ahead the tunnel came to a dead end, and there were doors on either side, all closed and padlocked.

  The captain produced a badly dented grey dwarf helm from his inventory and flung it down the hallway with considerable strength. It came to a stop maybe eighty feet away. “That be okay for a target?” he grinned.

  Max chuckled and nocked an arrow from the quiver he’d attached to his hip. Taking a deep breath, he drew the bowstring back to his ear, and took aim. After letting the breath out slowly, he loosed the arrow. It sped downrange so quickly that he lost it in the flickering torchlight. A split second later there was a spark as the metal arrow struck the stone just in front of the helm, then skipped upward and slammed it back several feet.

  You have learned the skill: Archery!

  With a quality weapon and ammunition, you managed to hit your target on t
he very first shot, even if it was a lucky bounce. Still, it’s almost like you’ve done this before.

  Continued use of this skill may increase its level and functionality.

  The captain was silent as Max nocked another arrow. It wasn’t unreasonable for someone to miss the first shot with a new weapon, and Max hadn’t missed by much. If he’d been shooting at a live grey’s helmet, the arrow would have taken it in the neck.

  Max loosed again, and this time the arrow flew slightly high, missing the helm by inches. His third shot ricocheted off one cheek-guard, failing to penetrate. Max paused, taking a few deep breaths to reduce his frustration.

  “Relax, Max. Ye may not be hittin’ the center, but it be a small target. If ye were aimin’ fer the chest of a grey, ye’d have killed em with each o’ yer shots so far. That bow be damned impressive.”

  “Do I have time to practice a bit more?” Max asked.

  “Aye, it’ll be an hour or so before we go. Take yer time. This’ll be a damned effective weapon in the coming fights. It’ll be your job to handle as many of the beasties as you can at a distance, before they reach the line.” He looked at Max’s quiver. “But you’ll be needin’ a damn sight more arrows. Leave that to me. Have ye got space in yer storage?”

  Max nodded. “Two hundred slots. I sold off all my loot to Fitchstone last night. He’s selling it all to the kobolds.”

  Rockbreaker laughed. “Aye, many o’ the merchants are doin’ the same. The greys’ll have more than one army to worry about in the coming days.” He took one of the arrows as a sample, and left Max to his practice, setting off to requisition some ammo.

  Max resumed his firing, taking his time and aiming each arrow carefully, paying attention to his breathing. All of his shots either hit and penetrated the helm, or struck a glancing blow. When his quiver was empty ten minutes later, he felt confident enough to use the weapon in battle. As the captain had said, his targets would be both bigger, and closer, with Max only standing back fifty feet or less from the enemy. After collecting his arrows, all of which had survived the impacts, and the now holey helm, he returned to his company. The captain laughed when Max handed him back the helm, telling him to keep it as a souvenir. He then pointed to two barrels sitting upright on the floor next to him. He popped the lid off of the nearest, and inside Max saw hundreds of arrows standing upright, each one as long as the barrel.

  “There be two hundred arrows in each barrel.” The captain began to secure the lid back in place, then stuck the borrowed arrow back in Max’s quiver. “They ain’t the quality of what ye’ve got there, but they’ll punch through a grey’s armor well enough. The masters assigned a squad of apprentices to make ye some better ones, and they’ll send em along in a day or two.”

  “Thank you, captain. I’ll try to make each one count.” Max touched the two barrels, noting that each one took a single slot.

  One of the fighters that had been in the earlier battles snatched up the holed helmet and put it on, dancing around the staging area pretending to be unsuccessfully dodging arrows, taking imaginary hits and falling down, groaning in pain. Waves of laughter from their comrades lightened the mood a bit.

  It wasn’t long before a horn sounded a single long note. Everyone stood and formed up by companies, preparing to move. Max saw wheeled mining carts loaded with what looked like mechanical parts, and longer wagons with timbers and big pieces of something. Looking to Dalia, he raised an eyebrow.

  “The engineers be bringin’ siege weapons. Catapults, rams, and the like. Fer when we reach the city.”

  Max imagined how hard it would be to move those bulky carts through unknown terrain. He’d always had respect for combat engineers, but the dwarves were something else altogether.

  He didn’t have more time to think about it as the horn sounded two blasts, and Rockbreaker shouted, “We’re up! This is it, lads n lasses, make me proud!” he turned and began to march toward the hole in the floor. Max, walking in the back behind the ten rows of ten dwarves in his company, saw that they were the third company in line. He felt sorry for the first, who were already beginning to descend. They’d be the ones absorbing all the hits from traps left in the tunnels, and likely any ambushes.

  Red must have guessed his thoughts by the look on his face. “The dwarves would have sent scout teams out ahead. They know their business.” Max smiled at her, grateful for the effort she was putting into helping him.

  *****

  It was nearly half a day before Rockbreaker’s company saw any serious action. The army moved at a crawl, not wanting to get spread out too thin. The scouts had mapped the tunnels the greys had created on their way to Darkholm. After more than a mile, the single tunnel that led from the breach branched out into three. The scouts reported that all three extended for miles in the general direction of their target city. The first three companies in line were each assigned a tunnel, with a second company to follow behind. The main force would continue down the center.

  Max and company were given the left-hand tunnel, and three scout teams of six dwarves each with stealth abilities. The ranks moved at a steady walk, shields on their arms and weapons in hand. The second company stayed back, following at about a hundred yards. Max was again surprised at how quietly all the dwarves could move in their plate armor and steel boots.

  Each time they encountered a branch in the tunnel or intersected a cavern, they halted while the scouts did their jobs. Twice there were small skirmishes with grey dwarf scouts or natural creatures of the underground, but they ended in seconds. One Darkholm scout perished when he was ambushed and had his throat slit by a stealthed grey, who then died an ugly death in return. These two sub-races were mortal enemies, and this was a grudge-fight. No quarter asked, or given.

  As they moved on, Max’s elven ears picked up some concerned grumbling whispers from the dwarves in the rear ranks just ahead of him.

  “Three tunnels, miles long. This be bad.”

  “Aye, this be years o’ work and planning. And us with no idea what they were up to.”

  “It’s a trap!”

  “Hush, ye fool. O’ course there be traps. Don’t go hollerin like a youngling.”

  “Got to be more than one clan. I hope the king’s cousins arrive quickly.”

  Max kept his bow in hand, an arrow nocked. He’d put away his best arrows and filled his quiver with twenty of the arrows from the barrels, figuring they were more disposable. If they didn’t do the job when he fired on the greys, he’d switch them out. Happily, he found that he didn’t need to pull a barrel out of his storage and open it to retrieve arrows. He simply had to focus on the slot with the barrel and think about wanting twenty arrows, and they appeared in his quiver. He also found that there was some kind of magical spacers or stasis inside the quiver that kept his arrows from rattling together as he walked.

  When contact with the enemy came, it came from behind. Max was doing his best to follow quietly behind the dwarves, but his boots kept scraping on a random pebble, or slapping too loudly on the stone floor. He was so focused on listening to his own footsteps that he nearly missed the sound of scraping stone above him. Looking up and over his shoulder for the source of the sound, his Darksight showed him half a dozen stone slabs sliding to one side along the tunnel’s ceiling.

  “Contact!” He shouted, raising his bow and firing at the first body that dropped from the nearest hole. He had aimed for the chest, but hadn’t properly compensated for the falling movement, so his arrow slammed into the face of a grey dwarf, flipping it backward in mid-air to land on its back, already dead. He quickly pulled another arrow and fired as his comrades turned to face the threat. That arrow punched deep into the chest of a grey that had already landed on its feet in the tunnel and taken a step toward Max. It was knocked backward into another grey that was just landing.

  Other greys from the other five openings were already charging forward, and Max abandoned his bow. They were too close. Instead he drew his longsword, bared his fangs and ro
ared, casting Confuse on the area right in front of him before stepping in to hack and slash at the nearest foes. Nearly twenty of the greys were caught by his spell, which was at level five after extensive use in the previous battles. The level increase meant that the effects lasted twenty seconds.

  Most of the enemy caught by the spell didn’t live that long. Max lopped off heads and limbs or dented armor with each stroke until Rockbreaker shouted the command for him to retreat. Max flattened himself against the wall to the left, and five dwarves with raised shields rushed past him to slam into the enemy. He put away his sword and hugged the wall as he retreated behind the lines to where Dalia and the healers were gathered, leaving the dwarven warriors to do their jobs. The moment he reached the back, he cast Confuse again on the grey dwarves in front of the line of Darkholm tanks. He could see and hear the charge of the second Darkholm company coming up on the greys’ other flank.

  Taking up his bow, he took careful aim and picked off greys with weapons raised, about to strike his allies. He fired over his friends’ heads, but low enough so that if he missed his target, he wouldn’t hit the second company. Occasionally he got lucky and saw a foot sticking out of the holes in the ceiling, indicating a grey was about to drop through. He took aim and fired high, catching them as they dropped and knocking them back to fall on the heads of other greys.

  On his shoulder, Red shouted above the din of battle. “You’re regenerating one mana point per second!”

  Max quickly looked at his mana bar, which was still more than half full. He began casting Confuse every thirty seconds or so, giving his mana time to recharge between casts. Each time he selected a different area, alternating between spots directly in front of the first company and the second. Being nearly twice the height of all the combatants, he had no trouble surveying the entire battle.

  He also kept an eye on his front line, watching for any allies that were badly injured, and casting Nature’s Boon on them. For the most part, the healers were doing just fine, though. He was only casting the heal every few minutes.