Is there any live cargo on the barge, I wonder? And if so, is this a smalltime criminal gang, or part of a larger operation?
I’ve already seen that some on Dubasa trade in slaves, using them to supply slave regiments among the Dubasan armies. Could the Empire be doing the same? In Imperial Year 20, I would have said no. But with the timeline having glitched forward 27 years, the NPCs appearing to have gained some measure of agency, and the Emperor himself trying – at least according to Connor Champion – to take over the world? I can only say ‘who knows’.
We continue walking, still staring down at the slavers. For now, the river is flowing the same way as we are headed – eastward, towards Katresburg – but soon it will curve southwards into the swamp.
“I wish I could see more clearly,” I say. And then something hits me. Connor said that the game’s basic physics allowed people to develop anything that didn’t conflict with those laws.
That means anything I could make in the real world – a telescope, for example – could also be made here. Hell, if the raw materials and labor were available, I could build a nuclear power plant.
I park that thought for the moment, thinking hard. “Does anyone have anything glass…” I begin, looking around.
P’oytox has been focused keenly on the slavers and hardly listening to any of the rest of us, but he pauses, reaches inside his cloak, and pulls out a small empty glass bottle. Its front and back are flat and round…it couldn’t be more perfect.
“Can I break it apart, to use for something?” I ask, and he hands it over. “With a bit of time, I could adapt the two glass surfaces to see better what the slavers are doing.”
“How so?” asks the shaman.
“It’s complicated to explain, but the glass can bend the light, and allow me to see at greater distances.” I hold the bottle up towards the sun in an attempt to show them how the light is diffracted. “Have you heard of a telescope?”
P’oytox hisses again. “I don’t think we have time, crafter. I wish to move down to those people, and stop their actions before they can enter the swamp and take more of our young. I don’t need to see what they are doing in any detail – I already know. The only question is whether I can stop them.
“Ok,” I say, feeling a little disappointed that my crafts won’t be of help this time.
“Keep it, anyway,” says P’oytox, once again looking at the barge. “I am going to take more direct action.”
“Come then,” says Garner, putting a hand on the lizard shaman’s shoulder and also gripping his bow as he speaks. “It will be an honour to stand at your side again. Remember what happened at the gorge? With my shooting and your magical powers, together we can stop these slavers.”
I immediately understand his implied plan. Back at a gorge on Dubasa, Garner slew several mercenaries that were pursuing us, and P’oytox used his powers to raise the slain to attack their own comrades.
“But what about Katresburg?” said Coruff. “I have contacted Maleki, and hope to meet the coven there.”
I had been thinking the same thing, feeling torn between the desire to do the right thing here and now, and our existing plan to help protect the coven.
“We should perhaps do this first, Coruff,” I reason. “And then hurry on to the town, hopefully before the red riders can get there.”
She looks down towards the river again. “I will continue, for my brethren rely on me. If Garner and P’oytox want to attempt this thing together, then so be it.”
P’oytox makes a noise, and we all look around at him. “I have comrades ahead on the road; they are lizard folk like myself. Speak to them. We are already negotiating with the people of Katresburg. With your help, we could form an alliance that could save both the coven and the folk of the swamp.”
Coruff nods at this, and glances around at our group. “Lugg, you can come with me. And Daria…” she leaves the question hanging, and I must say, I feel torn. But then I look at Lugg and Coruff, and make up my mind.
“I think I should stay with Coruff, don’t you, Garner? There should be at least one archer with her group.” Unspoken is the knowledge we share that magic users are now outlawed by the Empire, and Coruff may be in more need of protection than any of the rest of us.
He nods, then slaps me across the back. “Thank you, Daria, and safe shooting. Get Coruff to town.”
With this, Garner and P’oytox set off at a run towards the river.
Chapter 32: Lizard Warriors
Lugg, Coruff and I proceed along the path. It is beginning to descend quite steeply now into a forested hillside which stretches almost to the city. The Forest of Zargh, it is called.
I am looking forward to reaching Katresburg. Is it indeed the haven that Connor and Zakira implied – a hotbed of rebellion, free from imperial control, and unwelcome to the Knights of Dawn and their mercenary lackeys? It would certainly be refreshing to be able to walk the streets without fear of being spotted.
At the same time, I feel flat, perhaps because of a certain amount of guilt about not having gone with Gartner and P’oytox. I really hope that they aren’t in too much danger. Getting Coruff to safety and uniting her with the coven is vitally important, but at the same time, I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything bad happened to two of my closest in-game companions.
We pass through an area where spindly birch and ash trees line the roads. Not only are the fall colors in evidence on their leaves, many of them have dropped upon the road and crunch under our feet. I look down to the side, where the river is still close; every so often I get a glimpse of it, sparkling in the afternoon sun, but the visibility is not good enough to see the barge, or get a sense of where it went.
We have been walking for a further hour or so when we see two lizard men ahead, just as P’oytox warned us. One is tall with yellow skin (or scales) and a canvas tunic, and the other even taller warrior, with bright blue skin and chainmail. The latter is a magnificent-looking warrior, a full head height taller than any of us, and with massively muscled bare arms. Indeed, they both look muscular, and have swords at their belts and long shields, too. Both wear bronze bands around their heads. Signs of their status, perhaps? We wave in greeting as we approach.
“Presumably these are the elders of other clans that P’oytox spoke of,” says Coruff.
The lizard folk have seen us, and they step towards us on the road.
“Are you dwarves?” says the tall blue one, looking us up and down.
I smile at the question (dwarves?! We hardly look it! None of us have beards, and I might have thought a felaxian and a half-orc were distinctive enough). “Not at all,” I say. “We are a varied group of travelers, and friendly to lizard folk like yourselves.
They speak briefly among themselves. And then I hear the tall leader cry out… but he seems to be looking behind us rather than at us. Suddenly I realize that three green lizard men are on the road behind. And they have spears pointed directly at our backs.
“Raise your hands,” says the leader.
And we have no choice but to comply.
Soon we are marching along the path with our hands bound behind us. The footing is uneven on this little-used section of road, and as well as the frustration of my latest capture, I am finding it very nerve-wracking to walk without the use of my hands.
We are in the foothills now, the greatest of the Ironrock Mountains now behind us. And while it is still cold, the surroundings are greener, lush, with tall plants by the side of the dwarven road.
So far, I have made little progress with our captors.
“I tell you,” I am saying, “we are friends of P’oytox – a necromancer. A lizard tribesman like yourself.”
Nothing. He marches on.
“P’oytox,” I say again. “He is of the Szula tribe.” This time there is a flicker of interest from one – the tall lizard warrior with blue scales and chainmail armor. “The what?” he says.
“The Szula tribe?” I say hesitantly. But this time again th
ere is nothing in response.
I think it’s possible that they just don’t understand it when I speak words in their own language. But they do understand the common language. And so I try a different tack.
“He’s a necromancer. A user of magic,” I say. “He was on Dubasa with three warriors from his clan.” I pause, trying to remember whether P’oytox used the word ‘clan’ or ‘tribe’ – is there a difference?
“Anyway,” I continue, “this magic user, he said that five red knights rode into the Great Swamp and took him away. The Knights of Dawn they are called. Servants of the Emperor, but very bad news for us, and for lizard folk. They are our enemies.”
I have definitely got his attention, now. But just as I am on the verge of a breakthrough (I think), something else happens which changes everything.
“Mercs,” grunts Lugg, managing, despite our bonds, to nudge my elbow with his.
I break off from my frustrating attempts at communication and look around. Sure enough, ahead and to the left I can see a steep and stony path – part of the route we would have been on – which is winding down a gorge, and coming directly towards the dwarven road we are on. I see flat sections interspersed with stone steps every ten yards or so. And making their way down are some of the same mercenaries that we evaded before. In total I can see ten – no, at least sixteen – marching downwards in pairs.
They are only around two hundred yards from a point ahead of us where the two ways merge, or rather where the path from the mountain pass disappears and the dwarven road continues. Before they get to that point they will reach a tall wooden bridge, which crosses a jagged gulch.
Beyond, on the part of the dwarven road that progress on towards Katresburg, stand a cluster of a further mercs, waiting for their comrades. One of them is now on horseback; a certain white-haired elf, who seems to have dogged my movements in this game.
Snagaras.
I know that the lizard warriors have noticed the mercs too, as one calls a halt; they lead us off to the side among the trees and then begin to speak together in their own harsh language for a few moments. The leader is pointing and gesturing as they decide their next move.
I decide to have one last try to communicate.
“Hello? What is your name?” I say to the tall blue leader.
“Quiet,” he says.
“We can help. Those soldiers are our enemies,” I reply, undaunted. “And I am a good archer.”
He pauses for a moment, looking at me, and then calls out in a low voice to the others. They gather closer, spears held at chest height, and for a moment I wonder if perhaps I have pushed too far – if they will simply execute us and then escape for the river and the swamp beyond.
But then he speaks again.
“My name is Ta’rox. And you?”
“I am Daria. This is Lugg, and that,” – I turn my head to nod behind me – “is Coruff. Those mercenaries are our deadly foes.”
They speak among themselves again in their own language. There is an argument, perhaps, for it seems fast and heated, though nevertheless quiet by our standards. There is a lot of hissing and clicks.
And then Ta’rox turns back to me. “Very well, Daria. If you swear by your clan’s honor to aid us, we will untie the cords on your arms.”
I nod, and then, realising that their body language is very different from my own, say, “Yes, I agree. I swear. We will try our best to help you, and fight with honor.”
Ta’rox calls out an order, and with some hissing that sounds remarkably like one of the other lizard warriors muttering under his breath, our bonds are cut.
* * *
I look again at the mercenaries as they progress towards the bridge. “We can’t just attack them directly,” I say to Ta’rox. “There are too many – and they have crossbows.”
“What, then, do you think we should do?” he replies.
I look up; on one side of the bridge rises a precarious looking cliff, with boulders atop it. It would be next to impossible for the mercs to climb up that way – but we could reach the top by traversing the hillside from where we now stand, and perhaps shoot down at them.
I then look the other way, where Snagaras and his guards are located. There are six mercs in all on the lower part of the road, including the leader. Beyond them, still on our left, runs the main river which we have been following.
“Ta’rox, we need to get past these foes and hurry to Katresburg. That means we need to get by that smaller group of mercenaries on the road in front of us. We don’t need to attack the bigger group. We just need to stop them crossing the bridge.”
“Well,” he says, moving his head from side to side in the distinctive, jerky way that I have seen P’oytox do. “We could distract the smaller group by attacking from the river. But why should we take that risk, human? We could instead kill what we can of these foes, and then flee to the river in safety.”
I nod. “But I told you, I’m a friend of a lizard shaman, from the Szula tribe. He would be here to help, but he and our archer friend went to attack the slavers that work in the Great Swamp, and we are now only three. We cannot get past those mercenaries ourselves.”
“It is good that your companions challenged those slavers,” he says. “Perhaps you deserve my help. But again, it seems foolish – why risk our lives now, when we could simply slip away?”
I sigh, frustrated. I feel I am making some progress with the lizard folk – he does at least seem to be open to persuasion – but it is slow and time is very short now before our situation is going to get much worse.
I step closer. “Ta’rox, we can win if we are smart about it. Also, there are good humans in the town that you speak of. If we get through, we will help them. Doing so will keep the Knights of Dawn and their mercenaries away from your people.”
He thinks about this for a moment, and then says, “If you will join them, then we will try to help you. Bad knights must be killed, and a great battle us coming. The time to spill the blood of our clan will be when the mercenaries cross our borders to take our youngsters.”
He looks around at the approaching mercs again. “The trouble is that there is not time to defeat those ones” – he points at the lower group – “before the others will arrive with their crossbows.”
I nod. “If things get bad, can you escape by the river, even under crossbow fire?”
“We can swim well. It is a danger, but we will take that risk.”
I glance around at my two companions. “Then is there something we can do to block the bridge? With the rocks, perhaps?”
“I might be able to help with that,” says Coruff, “if I can get close enough.”
“Yes,” I say, nodding. But I can’t help feeling concerned about how Coruff would then extract herself from that situation. If she stops them, it can only be a temporary fix.
Then I glance again at the boulders on the slope high above the bridge. They look much too heavy to move, but perhaps… And then I realize: this is my role as a crafter. I can set up a mechanism that will make the rocks fall, stopping the mercs in their tracks. Doing so will allow the rest of our plans to fall into place.
“Go,” I say to Ta’rox. “And flee whenever you need to. Leave the larger group of mercenaries to us. Lugg, come with me.”
And with that we are off, running up through the trees that line the hillside.
Chapter 33: The Bridge and the Road
Lugg is just ahead of me as we make our way through the dense trees of the hillside. We soon have to slow our ascent, and the mercs are getting ever closer to the bridge. It’s hard to say who will be able to intercede first – ourselves or Coruff. I really hope one of us can.
It was hasty and vague plan at best, but I have to hope that everyone plays their part, and improvises where necessary. As I move, I see that Ta’rox and the other clan leader have moved through the trees near our side of the road, and taken up position near the bridge. The three other lizard warriors with spears are moving along throug
h the long grass near the river. From my angle, up above them, they are very difficult to see, and hopefully next to impossible from where Snagaras waits on his horse. Each of the warriors has two extra spears strapped to his back. Still, that is only nine shots against the six mercs that are at the junction.
I hope that they are good at throwing.
Coruff, meanwhile, has begun to walk alone and quite openly along the dwarven road towards the bridge. Her hood is pulled down; I suppose she is hoping that the mercenaries take her for an ordinary traveler, and do not decide to fire in unprovoked aggression. If they do, she will have to defend herself until Ta’rox can intervene.
“Lugg, look. Snagaras has seen her.”
He turns and nods. “They will most likely mistake Miss Coruff for a dwarf or a merchant. Not many of her kind in these parts.”
As he speaks, I hear a shout. They’re challenging her now, asking her to stop and identify herself. She slows and then stops, holding her sleeved arms out to her sides to show that she is not holding a weapon. Two of Snagaras’s mercenaries then march closer, approaching her, while the others wait by his side.
But just at that moment, the lizard warriors strike.
Three spears go flying up from the river bank towards the pair of mercs who have moved forward, and two hit their targets directly, striking weak points in their armor, while another falls to the side. Both warriors fall, screaming as if mortally wounded; at this moment, Coruff turns and runs towards the bridge.
Seeing the danger, Snagaras pulls his sword and snarls an order towards his men. The trio of foot soldiers who had remained by his side now advance towards the river. They rush the position of the lizard men, raising their shields. Three further spears fly out, but this time all are deflected as the warriors are now prepared and ready. The mercs now charge towards the lizard men, who engage them in hand to hand combat with their remaining spears.
The Call of the Coven: A LitRPG novel (Shadow Kingdoms Book 2) Page 22