by Troy Osgood
He didn’t think anything was broken.
Hall tried to swing his sword in an arc, to push the Duntin back, give him a chance to recover, but the smaller warrior was surprisingly quick. He was within Hall’s reach. Hall couldn’t bring the sword up in time. He swung it down, the Duntin’s buckler catching the blade. The hammer swung in, slamming Hall in the side. His armor absorbed most of the blunt damage, but he could still feel the throbbing muscle. It would leave a nasty bruise.
The Duntin surged forward; Hall stepped back, swinging his sword in low. He got below the buckler, slicing into the Duntin’s side. The raider didn’t notice or care. He jabbed with the head of the hammer, causing Hall to step back again. Feet caught on a root. Hall felt himself falling, knowing there was nothing he could do.
He hit hard against the ground, feeling roots and rocks digging into his back and legs. He scrambled, trying to push back, to get the sword up in time to block. The Duntin was laughing, holding the one-handed hammer in an overhead two-handed grip. Hopping up, the hammer started swinging down, the Duntin’s jump adding force to the swing.
Hall saw it coming, felt time slowing down. The small hammer’s head seemed to grow in size as it descended. Hall’s arm moved, bringing the sword up, but it was awkward. Lying on his back, the movement wasn’t swift or sure, the blade wobbly. The Duntin’s arm swung out, knocking the weak strike aside with the buckler. Metal clashed against metal. Hall grunted as his arm overextended, but he let it, using the momentum to help start his roll. He pulled his shoulder up, the hammer hitting the thicker muscle of his upper arm. Heavy, large feet landed on either side of Hall’s chest.
He yelled, feeling bone crack, but managed to roll back. He caught the Duntin’s arm under his as he rolled, knocking the small but heavy raider off his feet. The Duntin crashed, Hall rolling on top. He yelled in pain, his shoulder burning. Raising his sword arm, Hall brought the weapon down. The blade bit deep into the trapped Duntin.
Hall raised up again, driving it down harder.
The squirming Duntin fell still.
Hall tried to stand up, stumbling. He reached out with his free arm, hitting a tree to the side, feeling pain shoot through his arm. Gritting his teeth, he made himself stand up, turning to look down the rough trail of broken branches. There were no more Duntins coming.
Thankfully.
SLAIN: Roc Reaver Raider
+25 Experience (Faction Enemy Bonus +25)
SLAIN: Roc Reaver Raider
+25 Experience (Faction Enemy Bonus +25)
SLAIN: Roc Reaver Berserker
+35 Experience (Faction Enemy Bonus +35)
Skill Gain!
Light Armor Rank Two +.4
Skill Gain!
Small Blades Rank Two +.4
Stepping carefully over the body, Hall stepped forward. His arm hung at his side, each movement painful.
He tried to lift the arm, reach for the potion pouch, but the pain was too great. The arm wouldn’t respond. Cursing, he looked down the trail once more, seeing nothing, trying to hear movements. He couldn’t even hear Roxhard or Jackoby in the small forest to the sides. There had been fighting from either side, but now there was nothing.
Eyes forward, he sheathed his sword. Using his uninjured hand, he pulled out a healing potion. Pulling the cork out with his teeth, spitting it into the woods, he downed the reddish liquid. Not as thick or as heavy as the Energy potion, the Health potion had a bitter taste, almost enough to make him gag. He fought the urge down, feeling the warmth spreading through his body. Small aches disappeared, the throbbing in his side lessening. He gritted his teeth at the sharp pain as the cracked bones in his shoulder knitted together. The muscle was still sore, still stiff, but the arm could move again.
He was flexing it, swinging the arm to get rid of the tightness, when the breaking of a branch drew his attention. Down at the end of the rough path, a Duntin stepped into view. The raider laughed, seeing Hall unarmed. Two more, one a Berserker, appeared behind the first.
They started forward at a run, wanting to reach Hall before he could draw a weapon, overwhelm him with numbers.
Hall reached over his shoulder. He grabbed the javelin, pulling it out of the harness. With a practiced motion, Hall launched the weapon. The three-foot-long spear shot straight over the short distance. It slammed into the lead Duntin’s chest, stopping the raider’s momentum, knocking him off his feet.
A streaking spark of lightning followed, slamming into the Berserker. The Duntin stopped, staring at the small blade in his shoulder. Lightning shot out, swirling around the arm. The Duntin’s eyes widened; he grimaced in pain.
The last didn’t slow his charge.
Hall braced himself, reaching for his sword. There was no time to fully draw it. The Duntin was there, hammer leading. Hall waited until the last second, shifting to the left, twisting his body. The Duntin roared past, the hammer swing missing.
Hall knew how lucky he had been, thankful for his high Agility and the passive Evade skill.
He pulled the sword from its sheath, swinging at the back of the Duntin. The blade sliced across the leather armor, frost forming along the edge. He felt it bite into the Duntin’s back. The raider fell to the ground, hammer knocked from his hand. Hall turned, flipping the sword around and driving the blade into the Duntin’s back. The body beneath him arced, spasming as the spinal cord was severed. It gave one final lurch as the blade was pulled out.
Hall turned quickly, hearing charging footsteps coming from behind. He got the sword up, blocking the descending axe, barely getting it up in time. His height advantage helped, not stopping the swing as it descended but stopping it straight on. The Duntin was stronger, pushing hard against Hall, trying to push the axe closer.
Hall shifted his feet, giving himself better balance. His sword was just below the axe-head, tip against the wood. The metal head was just inches away from his shoulder. He pushed up with the sword, fighting a losing battle. He held the small sword with one hand, the Duntin using both to push the axe forward.
With his free hand, Hall reached for the dagger on his belt. He fumbled, missing the hilt, but grabbing it. The angle was awkward, but he managed to swing out with it, striking the Duntin in the chest, slashing across the leather, not strong enough to cut.
But it did distract the Duntin.
The pressure against his sword lifted, and Hall was able to step to the side. He kicked out, hitting the Berserker in the knee. It growled, not really moving, raising the axe for another swing. Hall ducked, feeling the wind of the weapon’s passing over his head. He stabbed, both sword and dagger, weapons piercing leather armor and entering the Duntin.
Growling, the Berserker fell back. Hall rolled to avoid the backswing of the axe. He came up, stabbing up with his sword. The weapon pierced the body of the Duntin, blood dripping down the blade. He heard the axe fall to the ground.
Hall stood up, drawing the blade with him. He gave a final jerk, pulling it out of the Berserker’s body. He glanced past, seeing the last Duntin running toward him. The javelin, broken in half, lay on the forest floor. Hall waited a second and kicked, sending the dying Berserker into the running raider. The heavier Berserker, limbs flailing, knocked the lighter raider down. They fell, tangled together.
Hall stepped forward, stabbing down with the sword and ending the raider’s life.
SLAIN: Roc Reaver Raider
+25 Experience (Faction Enemy Bonus +25)
SLAIN: Roc Reaver Raider
+25 Experience (Faction Enemy Bonus +25)
SLAIN: Roc Reaver Berserker
+35 Experience (Faction Enemy Bonus +35)
Skill Gain!
Light Armor Rank Two +.2
Skill Gain!
Small Blades Rank Two +.3
Skill Gain!
Thrown Rank Two +.3
He stepped over the bodies, moving toward the end of the path, stopping when he heard a noise, a shadow stepping into the path, Duntin sized. Hall gripped his swor
d tighter, getting into a fighting stance. The shadows lessened, the figure getting into a shaft of light.
Hall saw Roxhard walking toward him, axe over his shoulder, blood dripping from the edge.
Taking a step in that direction, Hall’s booted foot hit something on the ground. It skidded across the rocky dirt, scraping. Looking down, he saw one of the Duntins’ small bucklers. It was only about a foot in diameter, made of iron with no decoration. Nothing more than a rounded bit of metal with thickened ends. He picked it up. There wasn’t much weight. The leather straps on the back didn’t look ripped or frayed, just loose. It had been jarred off when the Duntin had fallen.
There was nothing against a Skirmisher learning to use a shield. They just didn’t because the size of a shield would usually get in the way of their fighting style, and it was hard to hold a spear two handed with a heavy metal shield hanging from the arm. Some classes did have restrictions, such as Skirmishers and Duelists weren’t allowed to use anything above leather armor. Heavier armor got in the way of the quick and agile movements both classes utilized for combat. Hall turned the buckler around, looking at the back and the sides. Nothing fancy, just a thick plate of metal that could block most blows against it. It was used more to misdirect the attack than straight on blocking. Was it something he could learn to use?
Sheathing his sword, Hall loosened the straps some more. His arm was thicker than the Duntin’s wiry one. Sliding the buckler down over his wrist, tightening up the straps, he moved the arm, shaking it. The buckler didn’t move. He swung his arm out, feeling the added weight of the metal disk. Drawing his sword, he gave a few practice lunges and swings.
It felt good.
Skill Gain!
Shields Rank One 0.5
“I think we’re clear out here,” Roxhard said, looking at the buckler on Hall’s arm.
Hall shrugged.
“Let’s form up,” Hall said, following the Dwarf.
Now came the hard part.
Chapter 8
The six small buildings spread up the mountain before them. Each was only about fifteen feet wide, a single story tall. The sides were stone, the front wood, with a single door that was missing. Construction was similar to the homes of Skara Brae; Hall wondered if there was a connection. They weren’t as organized as Hall had first thought when he had first seen them from the air. From a distance they had looked to be aligned in two rows of three.
There were still two rows of three, but none were aligned in true rows. Each was off by a couple of feet, running up the hill. Up close appearing like two diagonal lines.
The entrances looked empty. Darkness inside each of the buildings. The sun was high, moving to face the mountainside, but the light didn’t penetrate deep. Not that they had a good angle to look inside any of the buildings. They were crouched at the edge of the wood, off to the side, where they could watch and not be targeted by anyone inside.
Hall wondered how many Duntins were inside. He assumed that the buildings, at least some of them, opened up inside the mountain. They had to. And some would probably be connected. The construction looked similar to Skara Brae, but Hall had a feeling the interior was going to be like that of Greenfire Depths. A small part of each building exposed, the rest built into the mountain.
Hall studied the openings. He had given up trying to judge by the footprints. There had been so much movement, steps crossing over each other. He had killed nine Duntins. Between the others, including the attack from above the buildings carried out by Caryn, Sharra and Bealee, they had killed over two dozen of the Duntins. The three higher-level adventurers were on their way up from the ships. Hall wasn’t sure how many they had killed, but it had to be more than a half dozen, probably more than a dozen.
There were far more Duntins than Hall had estimated.
Which could be a problem.
Same as Greenfire Depths, he thought. Take their time and search.
Except, unlike the Dwarven outpost, they didn’t have to go one building at a time.
He turned at the noise coming through the forest. Brandif pushed his way through the branches, followed by the larger Garrick, with Bradberry behind. There were splatters of blood across their armor and faces, but it didn’t look like it belonged to them. Hall could see clouds of thick smoke rising from where the ships were moored.
“How’d it go?”
“Killed about a dozen,” Brandif said with a shrug. “Ships are torched.”
“Almost five dozen of them out here,” Hall said. “Seems too easy, doesn’t it?”
Brandif shrugged. “Surprise can do that,” he said. “It won’t be easy once we go in there,” he added, pointing with his short sword at the buildings.
“I don’t know,” Hall said with a shake of his head. “These weren’t as tough as the raiders back at the meadow.”
“They might have been called raiders, but they weren’t,” Garrick said with a laugh. “These boys were the fodder. Mostly the sailors without much true fighting skill.”
That didn’t make Hall feel any better.
“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking,” he said to the group gathered close.
A strong gust of wind blew through the opening, slamming into the wall beyond, crashing back into the open space. There was no yelling, no cries of surprise.
Taking a deep breath, Hall rushed into the room, following Jackoby. The two had forms of dark vision, which let them see inside the shadowed building. Sunlight barely got past the door, giving enough ambient light for Hall’s Limited Night Vision to activate. He saw nothing but black shadows, differing shades of grays giving depth and shape.
He went right as Jackoby went straight ahead.
It was one room. Fifteen wide by fifteen deep, the back wall made of stone. Empty. Another opening was in the middle of the back wall.
Hall stepped further to the right, Jackoby more to the left. Both advanced on the opening. Nothing rushed out at them. Nothing was fired at them.
Hall realized at that moment there was a question he should have asked Gorid Stoneglare.
Did the Duntins have spellcasters?
Too late now, they’d find out the hard way.
Hall stopped tight to the wall next to the opening, Jackoby on the other side. Holding up fingers, Hall slowly lowered them one at a time.
The last finger dropped, Jackoby rushing through the opening. Hall immediately followed. He tried to move right but couldn’t, a stone wall there.
They found themselves in a corridor. Only about twenty feet long, the walls, floor and ceiling made of stone. Carved from the mountain, worked smooth. Small pilasters lined the wall, beams across the ceiling every five feet. It was too dark for Hall to make out any detail, but the construction appeared fairly plain. Basic. More openings lined the left wall, a total of four.
It didn’t take Hall and Jackoby long to clear the small rooms. All were empty, doors, if there had been any, long since rotted away.
The building was a home. Not that large, but it would have been cozy enough for a small family. The openings were tall. Jackoby barely had to bend down to get through. The proportions of the spaces seemed sized for humans or elves.
So who had lived here? And why?
There was no land to farm. Where did they get food?
The two left the first building, stepping out into the light.
“Empty,” Hall said, not really needing to. “Anything out here?”
“If there are Duntins in any of the buildings, they’re keeping very still,” Bealee said.
Unlike Hall, who was Half-Elven, she was a full-blooded Wood Elf. Long blond hair hung down most of her back, multiple small braids laced around feathers throughout. Her tree bark skin was a lighter shade compared to Hall’s, and she stood the same height, looking him in the eyes Long, pointed ears stuck up through her hair was light green with deep brown eyes. She was pretty in the exotic way of the elves. She wore leather pants and boots with a formfitting light green sleeveless wool tunic tha
t hung past her waist, slit on the sides. A belt held it tight, dagger hanging off the side. Light green lines and patterns spiraled up her arms, parts covered by the leather bracers.
Bealee usually kept herself apart from the others, rarely coming into the village. She spent most of her time in the Grove. Like Seo, she had been assigned by the Druids of the Grove to assist Leigh in cleansing the corruption, protecting and caring for the Branch. In the couple of months she had lived in the Grove, Hall had probably only spoken directly to her a half dozen times and not for long.
Hearing a noise from above, all looked that way, hands tight on weapons, spells ready to cast.
Brandif waved his hand as he stepped out of the middle building on the top, giving the all-clear signal.
Hall wished they had spent more time watching the movements of the Duntins, tried to figure out which of the six buildings went deeper into the mountain. He sighed, motioning Jackoby and Bealee to the next building.
The two buildings on the end, Hall’s on the south of the lower row and Brandif’s on the north of the upper row, were the only ones that led deeper into the mountain. Neither had explored beyond the first room, seeing the corridors that extended deep with no rooms off them.
“You sure?” Hall asked Brandif again.
The older Skirmisher held up a hand, nodding. “Yes,” he said, a bit of annoyance in his voice.
Hall shrugged as if to say sorry. He was the lord of Skara Brae, tasked to take care of his citizens, and Brandif was one of those. Even if the man was older, more experienced, and almost twice Hall’s level.
“We’ve been doing this since we came to Skara Brae,” Brandif said.
“Long before,” Garrick said over his shoulder from where he stood, looking down the corridor.
“Having a Druid in an adventuring party is a rare thing,” Bradberry said.