by Keith Ahrens
A huge cracking sound has split the air from the east. Turning, we can see tree branches thicker than a man's waist breaking through the wall. The stone shatters, and large chunks of granite fall to the ground, leaving gaping holes in their wake. Vivid green, broad oak leaves scatter in the winds. The ground rumbles as massive broken boulders plummet to the ground.
'Look to the east,’ Thorn had told us. In retrospect, it was rather obvious, I guess. Jesse comes to the same conclusion and begins guiding us through the battlefield to the demolished wall. Other prisoners from our side seem to be doing the same thing. I can't tell if they have grass blades or not, and I don't really care right now. We have a way out. Now we just have to get to it.
There's about thirty yards separating us from possible freedom while all around us lunatics rage war on anyone and everyone around them. They seem more interested in fighting whoever or whatever is closest to them, rather than finding a way to escape.
I'm using a spear as a crutch and trying to support Nian, who's feeling the effects of blood loss. Jesse continues to lead while Haynes stumbles along next to him, eyes still tearing up from his burns. Des and Thirax flank us, keeping any foes at bay with wild slashes and menacing growls.
I look over my shoulder and see the deformed giants working their way through both armies. Our side is more interested in running, so they seem to concentrate on the idiots that are willing to fight, avoiding the mindless maniacs running amuck.
No matter what way it's put, it’s a slaughter. The massive weapons of the giants are cutting and smashing a path at an alarming rate through any fighter within reach.
My voice fills with urgency. “Hey, we gotta fuckin' move faster, now!”
“I'm trying, Hoss. This ain't a damn walk in the park!” shouts Des from the side.
Nian stumbles and slips in the mud, almost taking me down with him.
“Hold up! I need some help here!” I shout, trying to pull the Gnoll back to his feet. He seems only semi-conscious and not really responding to my urges.
“You just said to get a move on, and now you wanna stop? Make up your damn mind!” Des replies, annoyed.
“Just cover us for a minute!” I reply.
“We ain't got a minute, Son,” states Haynes as he barely parries a wild swing coming for us. Jesse dances in and pokes a neat hole through the attacker's neck from the side. The man falls, gagging on his own blood. This time, there is no flash of white light. Why do I notice things like that at times like these?
“Well, shit. Look at what we have here! You guys going somewhere?” Spike-Hair Linda appears out of the crowded field to block our path. I try to ignore her as I pull a green stone from my belt pouch.
“Linda, clear the way and follow us. We’re leaving this Hellhole, and anyone is welcome to join our group,” Haynes says while standing up to his full height. His voice is firm and betrays no weakness, but the milky haze over his eyes and the facial burns say otherwise.
A black-robed figure steps up next to Linda and pulls his hood back, revealing feline features and light fur matted down from the rain. “Oh, we have no intentions of fleeing, nor are we going to allow you to run.” It pulls two wicked, curved daggers out, the blade handles jutting down from the bottom of its fists.
Without thinking, I heft the spear I’m leaning on and launch it at the cat-creature. It flicks one of its daggers in a parry motion and neatly sends the spear careening off into the crowd. Though it missed my intended target, it manages to take out an enemy swordsman just behind him.
In our condition, I don't think we're much of a match for these two, much less whatever allies they have in the crowd. This could be it for us. Wiping rain and mud from my eyes, I notice something that sends a jolt of hope coursing through me. My leather band must have shifted during the fighting. Underneath the bracer’s lacing, I can clearly see the throbbing red of my tattoo and the little blue arrow in the center. As I reach for it, I make a decision that I’ve been mulling over since my last level up. Pressing it firmly, I go multi-class. A sharp burning sensation begins on my inner right wrist as a small blue circle sears itself into my skin. I stop before the sheet is displayed. I already know it worked, why advertise?
Linda and her over-grown tabby with the knives are moving closer to us in a threatening manner.
Now's the best time to fix that. I take a deep breath, knowing that this will leave me so weak that I won't be able to run and fight for the next few minutes. I also know they can't afford to be bogged down carrying my ass, so this could very well be the end of my trip right here. But sometimes, the greater good means for others, not ourselves.
Using my new class to reinforce and channel the healing stones. I reach up and slap my hand against Haynes' leg next to his armor; at the same time, I slam a green stone down on Thirax's shoulder, shouting, “HEAL!” I concentrate on channeling all my energy from my hand and into them through the healing stone.
A brilliant flash of green light and a feeling of intense heat surges through the stone, down my arm, and then back across my chest and into Haynes. My calf burns, and I'm knocked backward, as if I've been hit with a live wire. The stone crumbles to fine black dust and washes away in the rain. It works better than I thought it would. Adrenaline surges through me, burning off some of the fatigue. Yet, I know I won’t be throwing around any more magic for a while.
Haynes blinks once, then twice, and smiles, rain rolling down his face. He drops his sword to the mud and with a flick of his hand, pulls the .45 from his belt pouch and aims from the hip. He narrows his sharp brown eyes before two shots split the air with a local thunderclap. Two neat holes appear dead center in the feline's chest. Natural 20, critical hit confirmed! It drops its blades and falls over backward, like a tree toppling in a forest. Its body lands flat and splashes a wave of muddy water to either side.
Jesse steps up next to Haynes, sword and dagger both clutched in his left hand and his black powder revolver in his right. He smiles a bit as he aims at Linda's head.
“I've never shot a woman before, but this will not haunt me in the least, devil woman!”
Linda lets out an incoherent scream and charges at Jesse. He calmly tracks her movement with the barrel of the gun and pulls the trigger…‘click’…nothing happens. Misfire, either from the rain or the age of the powder.
At the last second, Jesse smacks her sword aside with the gun barrel, but her bulk slams into him, taking them both down to the muck. She loses her sword and begins to pummel Jesse with her fists, still screaming in rage.
I spring to my feet, take a big step, and plant a solid kick right into her ribs. Right about the time she flips over onto her back, I notice my calf no longer hurts.
Jesse rolls with her and jams the gun under her chin and pulls the trigger once more, and again nothing happens. He keeps pulling the trigger, twice more in rapid succession. Finally, on the sixth pull, the powder ignites with a loud boom. The top of her head blows off, leaving brain and bone to furrow into the mud.
Thirax gets to his feet. Blood-caked fur surrounds a nasty puckered scar on his shoulder. “Your nasty human weapons have made me deaf!” he roars.
“It’s only temporary! Now make for the wall while we have a chance!” Haynes shouts.
We all form up in a loose square and move double-time toward the sundered wall. To our right, a group of four are running our way. I recognize Olivia's blonde hair as she pulls a sawed-off shotgun from underneath the spear sheath on her back.
“Good to see you, boys, but I really can't stay. Any of y'all care to escort a lady home?” she says with a broad smile.
“You seen Colt or the Berserkers?” Haynes asks in lieu of an answer.
“Not recently, too much confusion after the grid fell. Last I saw, Colt and his crew made a break for the wall while the Berserkers began killing anything not wearing a blade of grass,” she says, not missing a step.
The conversation cuts short as we all save our breath, running the last few yards t
o the east wall. No more opposition stands in our way as we scamper and scramble over the large chunks of granite.
The wall is almost eight feet thick, now with huge oak trees growing through the middle. I stop before jumping down and look out both ways. To the north seems empty and devoid of activity or means of escape, but the south holds a lot of promise. I discover multiple enclosed wagons with teams of horses already hitched up. Several saddled horses are tethered to makeshift posts next to the road. I smile and turn my head to tell the others as I narrowly miss catching an arrow to the face, it's sharp tip ricocheting off the stone next to my head.
“Take cover!" Colt yells from outside. "There are at least four guards out here!”
Holding up a fist to signal everyone else to stop, I peer around the edge of the hole. I see the body of Steve, Colt’s second-in-command, flat on his back in the mud, not moving, an arrow sticking out of his chest.
Scanning the narrow field that is visible to me, I find Colt and three others huddled behind various chunks of granite. It seems we are all pinned down for the moment.
We crouch, huddled inside the broken wall, unable to move forward and unwilling to return to the battlefield.
“We can't risk a fireball. Even if we had one, it would kill the horses and blow up the wagons,” mutters Haynes, thinking out loud.
“We got more problems coming up!” Des points to the field behind us. A large group of Terrestris Laminis warriors have banded together and started our way.
“Pile up some rocks, and anyone with a shield, plug the hole!” orders Haynes. “We may have to make a break for it. The archers can't get all of us…”
The plan sucks, but I don't see any other alternative. What we need is a distraction, but damned if I can see how to do that from here.
Haynes leans past the Gnolls, who are holding their shields up in the opening, and fires off a few shots from his .45. The report is deafening in the tight confines of the hole, and my ears ring for the next few moments.
“That should make them think twice,” mutters Haynes.
“Nope, they barely even flinched,” I say as I watch their reaction. “Too hexed to feel pain or any sense of self-preservation. Shit.”
A spear flies through the hole and clatters off the wall above Jesse's head. At the same time, I feel some cold water drip down the back of my neck. I look up and see daylight above us. The hole is also letting in a little rain. Jesse picks up the spear and launches it back at its owner. It drops with the shaft through its intended's chest; now there are only about fifteen left. We don't have enough ammo to fight these guys and the archers. And there isn't enough room in here to swing a sword. We need to make a move soon. I try to point out the fissure above us to Jesse, but he’s too busy trying to find another target, and I get distracted again.
“I got two shots in this scattergun, but I have to wait till they get a lot closer,” says Olivia.
My short barrel .38 isn't much better at this range, but I pull it out and switch the mace to my left hand.
A raucous war cry carries over the field. I catch a glimpse of spiked black armor in the rear of the mob outside our wall. I see an arm and part of a helmet fly through the air, but the rest of the mob doesn't react, they just continue advancing on us.
“The Berserkers are on their way! Let’s try to help clear a path for them!” Haynes shouts over the din of battle.
I brace my forearm on Nian's shoulder and say to him, “Try not to jump; this is gonna be really loud.” He nods in assent and readies himself. With a two-handed grip, I remain still for a few seconds to take careful aim. Pulling in a deep breath, I let half of it out and squeeze the trigger. The .38 slug hits a man low on the torso. It’s enough to stagger him and make him drop his sword. For the follow-up shot, I correct my aim a little higher and put the next round through his forehead. The helmet stops it from exiting out the back of his skull before he drops like a rock.
The mob continues to thin out as the Berserkers make their presence known. They attack from the rear, slaughtering the slave soldiers in front of them with fast efficiency. The enemy soldiers are too bespelled and focused on us to notice an attack heading for the rear of their group.
A quick headcount shows only about seven enemy fighters left when the first of the Fomorians suddenly reach the Berserkers. It catches the poor bastards by surprise. Its massive maul sweeps down from above like a hockey player going in for a slap-shot.
Now, this particular Berserker has to be about six foot five, upwards of three hundred pounds, with maybe an additional hundred pounds of armor and weapons. The maul catches him in the left ribs and launches him off his feet by a good six yards. He hits the ground like a ragdoll and doesn't move. From here I can see his armor and chest are completely caved in.
The other Berserkers, the four that remain, react well. They break off their attack on the Terrestris soldiers and surround the Fomorian. It’s a weird effect seeing the Berserkers look like children surrounding this twelve-foot-tall beast.
The giant blinks its three asymmetric eyes independently as it surveys the scene. The muscles on its chest ripple as it repositions its heavy hammer. It balances easily on its feet… all three of them. Its left leg splits at the knee with an extra shin and foot sprouting off next to it.
The Berserkers all sport large, heavy weapons, the kind designed to end an argument with one shot. They may as well be children's toys up against this thing. Grayson, the lead Berserker, darts in with his double-bladed ax and takes a mighty swing at the giant’s knee. The blade bites deep and rebounds off thick bone.
The Fomorian howls and backhands Grayson off his feet. The big man is sent flying and lands on his back. He uses the momentum to turn into a neat roll, coming smoothly to his feet.
The three remaining Berserkers attack all at once, two axes and one two-handed sword, all chopping and hacking with powerful blows. The giant dances around, nimbler than it has any right to be, but still catches a few cuts to its legs.
One of the axemen slips in the mud, not falling, just losing his balance for a moment. It's all the opening the giant needs. He swings his maul in a fast overhand motion and pounds the Berserker directly into the ground, much like a hammer hitting a nail into soft wood. The head of the enormous hammer rebounds off the ground, dripping gore and shattered bone.
The swordsman Berserker darts in from behind while the giant recovers his massive hammer. A fast swing with the two-handed sword cuts the hamstrings of the normal leg. The giant falls to one knee, catching himself with his weapon by planting the haft into the ground.
With a wild battle cry, Grayson leaps high into the air and slams his ax into the back of the giant’s skull. Its head snaps forward as the ax bounces off the thick bone. One of its eyes rolls back in its head, and it seems dazed, almost unsure of what just happened.
Grayson runs at it again and swings his ax with all his strength, slicing through the front of its throat. Arterial blood sprays high into the air, and the giant looks even more confused. It tries to regain its footing but slips back down to the mud. With one hand, it lazily swings its hammer at the Berserkers in an almost absentminded way. The remaining three easily dodge the maul and step back out of range and wait for it to fall over dead.
I turn my attention back to our fight. Nian and Thirax remain steady, using their shields to blunt any attack thus far. We are holding the high ground, which is giving us some advantage, and the Gnolls have a pretty long reach with their spears.
Bodies begin to pile up at the base of the wall as Jesse takes a minute to empty his cylinder and run a rag through it to try and dry it. He reloads with the quick efficiency of a practiced man.
Haynes guards the other opening with his .45 pistol while Colt calls out the position of the archers as best he can, dipping low to avoid taking an arrow to his skull. Haynes shakes his head after risking a quick look around the corner. “The guards keep moving and hiding behind the horses and wagons. I can't get a shot!”
/> Just then, the remaining five soldier-slaves of Terrestris attack our position with a battle cry all at once. Des steps up and fires his pistol three times. Two more bodies stagger back, but only one falls. The man who survived the gunshot wound continues his assault with the others while he bleeds down his chest. The Gnolls catch one more each with their wicked spears, holding them at bay until they stop moving.
I switch my pistol to my left hand and scoop up a chunk of masonry from the ground. It weighs about ten pounds, and I throw it as hard as I can. It catches a wild-eyed man just below his greasy hairline, and I hear bone cracking over the sounds of battle. He staggers but continues forward, raising his sword. Blood runs into his eye from the gash as he tries to climb the pile of bodies to get at us.
A man from Olivia's group leans forward and swings a studded flail with brutal force. It hits the same man on the crown of his head, and this time he drops. Alas, Olivia's man never sees the inbound hatchet from the last attacker. It slams into his temple and rips through the thin bone. He makes a gurgling sound and looks surprised as he falls from the hole in the wall.
Nian is the first to free his barbed spearhead from his last victim and swing the point around. He drives it with impressive force through the last man's breastplate and into his heart. The dying man screams in rage, but not in pain. He continues to swing the hatchet with wild abandon, filled with an unexplainable rage and desperate to hit someone. It takes him almost thirty seconds to finally die, still hanging on the end of Nian's spear.
During our latest assault, the Berserkers are attacked again, but by a different Fomorian this time. This one stands about fourteen feet high with a pair of ram’s horns curling back from its forehead. Its chest armor consists of wide bones that grow from its skin, like a second ribcage encasing the original. Its kilt is bloody and torn in a few places. Holding a sword in each hand, it spreads its arms wide in a challenging manner.