Wow.
From this angle, I am a long way up… and below me there are still hundreds of enemy soldiers.
I begin to climb. Fortunately, the bulk of the enemy is still focused on the battle that is raging on the wall. I climb, slide a little, then regain my grip.
Increase in skill level: Acrobatics level 15 (Agility +3)
Man, I am racking up the skill boosts. If I make it out of here alive… but currently, that is a big ‘if.’
Below me, Zakira is now struggling on the end of the rope, and is hanging around ten feet above the level of the top of the wall, on the outside of the tower.
“Can you hear me?” I call out as I reach the next of the knots that I have put in the rope, just a few feet above her now.
She looks up. “Yes… but holy crap, Daria, what the heck is going on?” She kicks out with her feet, gaining a bit of purchase on the outside of the tower.
An arrow whistles past me from the direction of the wall, and I see that an Imperial soldier there has noticed me. I pull out my dagger and fling it; it misses, but at the same moment, someone from beyond my field of vision helps me out: the soldier falls backwards with a longbow arrow in his chest, and collapses against the crenellations of the wall. Fortunately, the enemy troops on the ground below haven’t marked us yet, being a good thirty feet lower than Zakira.
“If we don’t want to land among the main enemy force, we’re going to need to swing around to the wall,” I call down. She looks up at me with her eyes wide as if I am crazy, and then calls, “Fine.”
And gradually, we begin to swing on the rope.
Chapter 48: The Enemy and the Wall
I almost land on top of Zakira, but in moments we are both up, standing on the top of the southern city wall, weapons in hand. I can see that the red potion has really done its work now; she dispatches another Imperial with her sword and then steps forward confidently, every bit the deadly elven assassin.
From this position on the wall, just at the foot of the tower, I have a much better view of what is going on, and I take a moment to decide what’s best to do next. With the loss of the two siege towers and many of their ladders, the attack from below has slowed considerably, although there are pockets of Imperials and mercenaries on the wall. Around these the fighting is fierce but the remaining defenders appear to be holding on, and they are being greatly aided by bow fire from down below in the city.
Better still, I can see that the magic users have arrived – and they are making rapid progress against the Imperials.
They are approaching from the western side, and I can make out Josa, her sword enchanted with a glowing energy. As I watch on, she casts an enchantment that summons up a blast of wind, flinging several enemies into the air and out over the battlements. The dark-haired male sorcerer that I saw at the coven has summoned a magical shield, and is at her side, protecting her from bow fire as she advances, and others further back are firing off an assortment of minor magical attacks.
My heart leaps at the sight.
However, when I look down below us, I see that a wedge of mercenary soldiers have already made it inside the city, and are now advancing across the mustering area near the gates, cutting down one defender after another. The squadron of Elemental Hand Guild healers, about twenty in all with shortbows, have pulled back to the entrance of the amphitheater and are firing off one shot after another at the encroaching enemy. But most of the arrows are bouncing harmlessly off the soldiers’ shields.
“That’s where we are needed!” I call to Zakira, pointing, and she nods. But soon we have a more immediate problem, for the closer enemy soldiers on the wall are now coming towards us.
“Back towards the tower,” she calls back to me, dispatching another foe with a lunging sword blow to his stomach that enters below his chest plate. To my right, a merc has come cautiously around the tower – or perhaps from inside it, I’m not sure – and I swing my morning star downwards upon him. He blocks one blow and then another, but on my third strike he is too slow, and the weapon thumps into his chest. He crumples and rolls off the wall.
We are being pushed from left and right; if more soldiers come over from outside the wall too, we will surely be overwhelmed. Another figure looms out from near the tower, and I am ready to strike again, but this time – to my surprise and delight – I recognize the face.
“Ta’rox!” I cry.
The tall lizardman clan leader hisses in greeting, weapon in hand, and shoots his thin tongue out for a moment. “Daria. We heard you were stuck in the tower. It’s now clear.” As he speaks, Garner and Lugg emerge at his shoulder, the latter with bloodied knives in both hands. The former holds a sword rather than his usual bow, and still has a black mask covering one side of his wounded face.
“Thank you, my friends,” I call out, edging towards them as Zakira faces off against another merc. “But is there some way that we can get down to the amphitheater? The Imperials are going to cut through the healers with ease. If they get all the way to where the wounded are resting, it will be a massacre.”
Garner nods, then steps past me and lunges forward with his sword at Zakira’s side, downing another enemy that had been pressing her back. She slays another, and the small group of Imperials ahead of her then pulls back to regroup.
“Now is the moment,” says Zakira, turning to the four of us, and she hurries right past us and past the tower towards the eastern part of the city wall. At first I am confused – there is much less fighting going on there, and the volunteer defenders largely have the upper hand. But then I see where she is going – further around there is another set of steps down to the ground level.
Before long, the five of us have made it down and are warily approaching the column of Imperial soldiers. A stand-off has developed; the archer-healers have arrows nocked but are not shooting.
And as we hurry on, we see why. Snagaras has come forward from the mercenary force and is engaged in a single combat. And I recognize who he is fighting.
“It’s Mac-Shinter!” says Garner.
And sure enough, the veteran knight, wielding the Genke double-handed greatsword, is engaged in a furious one-on-one battle with the mercenary general. A group of the knight’s apprentices – young trainees in pale robes – stand nearby, ready to intervene. But for now, both sides are letting the single combat play out.
I grasp Garner’s shoulder. “We can’t let Snagaras kill Mac-Shinter,” I say. “He’s too important…”
But the big man puts a finger to his lips. “Just watch,” he says. “Come on.”
We hurry across to the gathering, standing just between the healer-archers and Mac-Shinter’s apprentices, close to the entrance to the amphitheater.
Snagaras is armed in chainmail with metal plates protecting his arms and chest. He is holding two short swords, and has a shield strapped across his back. As might be expected from an elven warrior, he’s incredibly dextrous, as well as fast. He whirls, ducks, and strikes out time and again with one blade and then the other.
Mac-Shinter, in contrast, is slow-moving, cautious, barely shifting from the one spot that he is in. His armor is lighter – a single mail shirt that comes down to his upper thighs with canvas trousers beneath, plus his accustomed helmet. He is wearing the bronze chestplate, but on his feet is a pair of everyday leather shoes.
The greatsword barely moves in the old knight’s hand, and yet somehow it is there, time and again, when Snagaras aims a blow from a different angle. The efficiency of Mac-Shinter’s movement is something to behold, though I know it is also motivated, in part, by the restricted movement due to his weaker leg.
After having several rapid-fire blows parried with apparent ease, Snagaras steps back, snarling, and stalks around the old knight. I see that there are several of his mercenaries lying dead close by, and I wonder if Mac-Shinter dispatched them before this combat commenced. Clearly, both combatants recognize the danger posed by the other.
Mac-Shinter spins slightly on
his heel, again, and then again. He is now facing towards us – and has his back to the mercenary force.
And that is when Snagaras attacks.
The white elf leaps forward with his blades held high, forcing Mac-Shinter to crouch and parry both blades with his own. At that moment, on Snagaras’s shouted command, the front rank of mercenaries – six armored warriors – rush towards Mac-Shinter’s back. So, I can see, his aim was to turn the old knight around.
But just as it is starting to look grim for Mac-Shinter, the old warrior surprises me again. He spins, drops to one knee, and rakes his greatsword vertically at the advancing troops, slashing at them just below the knee. The blade cuts through the enemies in a single stroke, and again with little apparent effort. The warriors fall, screaming; one of them has had his lower leg cut right off, and the others have taken grievous flesh wounds.
The last mercenary, however, has managed to parry the blow, Mac-Shinter’s sword between his own blade and the ground. The old knight must be a lot stronger than he looks, for he is winning the struggle, forcing the enemy blade upwards.
But the momentary delay is all that Snagaras needs. He steps forward and slashes down towards Mac-Shinter’s exposed neck, and it is all the old knight can do to pull back a fraction and take the blow on the chestplate itself. He is trapped as the elf’s second blade begins to move downwards…
At that moment, my morning star lands firmly on Snagaras’ head. And the enemy general falls down at my feet.
* * *
With the aid of Mac-Shinter and his apprentices, the remainder of the mercenary column is soon disarmed or slain as well, and with the siege towers out of action, the defenders on the wall have all but prevailed.
That is when I hear the cry: “Open the gates,” and another person shouting, “The dwarves are here.”
I look at Garner and Lugg. “We are taking the fight to them!” shouts Garner, raising his sword.
And if he is going, then so am I.
Together, amid what feels like a surge of defending troops who have arrived from all sides, we stream out of the gate to face the enemy. Horns are being blown, and I am momentarily confused at the scene I can see in front of me.
The Imperial soldiers outside are in two main groups, now, one near their camp, and the other on the road, retreating towards the bridge in the distance. There is no sign now of the stricken knight Valizor, but I suspect that he is still alive and in the now-damaged tent. It is toward the latter I run, shouting “come on!”, and Lugg and Garner move with me.
As I move, I see that we are not alone in joining the attack. From the west there are indeed armored dwarves on the march; it seems like Kora’s mission has been as success, and I see her near the front of the force along with van Turk. Many of the archers from Lorn village are alongside. In addition, a column of lizard warriors are marching forward from the direction of the lake, and will soon be able to engage the Imperials on the road. It looks like the day has been won for the city.
Lugg and I hurry across to the area near the damaged Imperial tent. There are still a great many small and chaotic fights going on, and I see a city guardsman slain in front of me by an Imperial who then runs to join the troops on the road.
“The tent,” I say to my two companions, and leaving the other battles to play out with our new allies almost on the scene, we hurry forward and push our way in.
I have hardly taken a step inside when an Imperial guard has a sword to my neck. Fortunately for me, Lugg is quicker, and stabs the man in the arm. The soldier goes staggering backwards, and Garner finishes him off with an arrow.
We three then step inside, and disarm a further soldier who is in there.
Valizor lies upon a bed, still in armor, but without his helmet. He is a foul-looking man, and I am reminded of the face of the Lieutenant Skizol back on Dubasa – pinched, pale, with small eyes. Is this what a lifetime inside a helmet does to a person’s appearance? Or is there some more malevolent reason why their faces look this way.
“Surrender,” I say, pulling out the jeweled knife and holding it to his neck.
But as my eyes glance downwards, I see that his chest has already been caved in by my shot with the ballista. Even the knights, with their magically enhanced armor, could not withstand such a powerful blow, it seems.
“Skizol’s knife,” he comments in a wheezing voice, looking at the blade without attempting to move.
“You are finished,” I say. “You will rot in prison for your crimes.”
“I won’t make it that far,” he replies. “It is too late for me. And it is also too late for you, woman. My comrade Barzolk has found what we needed. Soon the dark lord will rise, and all will quake before him. As it would…”
I am preparing to give a defiant response to this speech, but then comes a rattle from deep within the knight’s throat, and he speaks no more.
There is a cry of anguish from the captured Imperial soldier, and I see a new notification, alerting me that I have once again leveled up upon vanquishing another of the knights:
- Quest update (kill the shadow riders) - Level up! You have advanced to a new level: Adept Crafter. Your hit points increase by 5 points. Please allocate one additional point to an attribute of your choice.
Chapter 49: Reunited
Mid-morning.
I stand beside Garner on the Katresburg city wall, looking out. Since the battle of the previous day, the surviving Imperials have regrouped on the other side of the stone bridge, half a mile from town. The bridge itself is heavily guarded by their soldiers, but otherwise they appear to be content to dig in beyond that position, and we can even see that some tents have been erected.
On our side, scouts are out patrolling, some of them picking up scattered armor and discarded weapons from the fallen troops – these can be gifted to citizen volunteers ahead of the next battle. For despite the current ceasefire, more warfare is surely coming. I have picked up some arrows myself, refilling my quiver.
The captives, including Snagaras, are now in the Katresburg city jail. Meanwhile, our breaking of the siege has allowed Maleki and the others to join us from the village of Lorn. The coven has been reunited at last, and it starts to feel like the revolution is really catching fire now.
As for me, I have taken the chance to allocate my leveling up stat point to spirit this time. My dex is already pretty good, my crafting better still, but I have seen how important it is to be able to manage the interpersonal stuff – I’ve had so many interactions recently that have been based on spirit-related skills. And while Daria has improved in these areas, they still aren’t her strong suit.
The description for an adept crafter is as follows:
Your skills and renown are growing, and with them a confidence about your place in the Shadow Kingdoms world. You are rapidly establishing a reputation in your field, and others will be drawn to you – but may also now see you as a threat, and seek to take you down.
It is the third level in the game; rapid progress of a sort that should not really be possible. Somehow, with considerable help, I have managed to defeat two elite shadow knights within just a couple of weeks of game time (admittedly by engaging with it twenty-four seven).
I just hope that I can live up to the next challenge.
“Why are they still there, do you think?” I ask Garner, pointing to the Imperials. “Why not return to where they came from? They were defeated – and we even have the strength to take them on in a pitched battle, if the dwarves and lizard folk continue to support us.”
My tall friend nods. “But on the other hand, our scouts have reported thousands of further Imperial troops in position between here and Dathmir,” he says grimly. “It’s not going to be easy to make further gains.”
“Thousands.” I shake my head. “Then the revolution is over before it has begun. We barely survived the last attack.”
He looks at me. “True. But we did make it, in large part due to your work with the ballista. And this time we’
ll be ready for them.” He points up at the tower behind him. Within, the ballista has now been restored to its position, since our victory, and I have also repaired the one in the matching tower on the southwestern corner. Katresburg is strong, and getting stronger.
We turn and begin to walk together along the southern wall. “What about the other Knight of Dawn?” I say. “Barzolk, I think his name is. The last I saw him, he was taking a squadron of men towards the lake. Valizor said something about gaining something that they needed. He seemed confident that they were finally ready to resurrect Zoltan the Third.”
“Maybe. I hope not, but maybe.”
“I really hope he didn’t persuade another lizard necromancer to do his bidding.”
We lean on the wall for a moment, looking directly south towards the lake. This is, no doubt, just a temporary victory in a longer war. Nevertheless, I feel good to have taken a step towards fulfilling my promise, and helping the lizard folk against the evil of the Knights of Dawn.
There is a lull in our conversation, and I hear an uneven step along the wall to my right. I look up, and Mac-Shinter is approaching, his limping walk very evident once again. Once again he has two of his acolytes at his shoulder.
“Morning, Garner,” he says, “and young Daria. Well, it seems we have survived the night.”
“It was a bloody victory, but a noble one,” I say. “We owe a lot to the magic users, and to the bravery of your young apprentices.”
“Ach… they did pretty well, right enough,” he says. “But I suppose you’ll have noticed that we still have an army on our doorstep.”
“Yes,” says Garner. “And I believe that is your responsibility now, correct?”
Mac-Shinter smiles and shrugs.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Lass, I agreed to lead the next stage of the resistance against the Empire. I am an old man, with nothing much to lose. I’d have liked to enjoy my retirement in Zagra, but that wasn’t to be. Now, at least, I can try to see the next generation set upon the right track.
The Call of the Coven: A LitRPG novel (Shadow Kingdoms Book 2) Page 33