by Brian Simons
Daniel sprinted toward Quinnick, closing the space between them with his sword in hand. The Tactician sprinted too. Even at his reduced speed, he ran nearly as fast as Daniel. The two ran until the path curved sharply and twisted toward the top of the mountain.
The sound of war loomed overhead. Daniel reached his hand out and grabbed Quinnick by the collar of his green tunic. Quinnick dived forward, tucking his head against his shoulder as he launched into a forward roll. Daniel held tight, rolling with him and landing on his back. His heavy armor clanged against the rocky path and he lay there for a moment, stunned.
Quinnick broke away and leapt on top of a six-foot boulder, then leapt again, grabbing the edge of a cliff. Beyond that cliff was Hiber Camp, the besieged dwarven city. Daniel jumped to his feet and sprinted up the rest of the mountain.
He froze at the top of the path. The ground was littered with dead bodies, most of them dwarves. A small group of melee fighters hacked and slashed with axes but dozens of elves closed in on them. The air was filled with fast-moving arrows. Elven mages hurled pellets of magic in rapid succession, zapping the dwarves with an untold variety of spells.
Quinnick stood apart from it all, the wind blowing through his medium-length white hair. He looked away from the carnage, back at Daniel, and frowned before looking over his troops.
It would be minutes before Daniel’s podon reached the mountaintop, and by then everyone else could be dead. He should never have left, never have traded a small victorious foray into Diardenna for the crushing defeat he saw now.
He should have pushed back against the mayor, but he didn’t. Splitting up was a tactical error and Daniel bore the blame. These deaths were on him.
A few clusters of dwarves struggled to beat back crowds of elves. They stood in rings, shoulder pressed against shoulder. Daniel charged toward the battle, his War Cry skill bestowing buffs on himself and the others that joined him.
>> Buff added: War Cry. +10% to Strength and Spirit in combat.
Daniel cast Fog of War again and then used Bark Orders to grant his allies a haste buff. They picked up their pace, beating back the elves and gaining a few inches of ground.
Daniel turned toward Quinnick, who reached over his head to draw an arrow but then stopped. His eyes went wide as his head turned toward the mountain’s peak. Daniel followed his gaze, but didn’t see anything. Was this some kind of trick?
Then it started. A thick slab of rock a quarter of a mile long broke from the mountain and began skittering down the slope, straight for the battlefield. Quinnick pressed a small horn to his mouth and sounded for a retreat.
Daniel didn’t have a horn, but he did know that Quinnick had the right idea. “Run!” he yelled. His voice hardly carried over the sound of rock against rock, crashing and splitting apart into smaller boulders.
Every time the rock split apart, another dark shape escaped from the crumbling slope like a puff of smoke.
Daniel stepped back, clear from the path of the falling rocks. He squinted at one of the dark shapes.
>> Level 18 Ruined Soul.
He wanted to stare longer and use his Surveil skill to find out its HP, but he didn’t have time. A dozen of those shadows hurtled toward him and many of his recruits.
Dwarven axes sliced through the air, some of which passed right through the shades’ bodies. The monsters’ HP bars stayed full. One swept past Daniel and he brought his sword down with all his strength, but it was like fighting a cloud. He didn’t do any damage at all. His blade only crashed into the ground before him, sending painful vibrations up the hilt and through his arms.
Daniel didn’t have any magical attacks. If physical damage wouldn’t cut it, he’d have to rely on a little help. “Casters!” Daniel yelled, hoping some had survived the bout with the elves.
Spell casters were already in motion. Orbs of magic light shot toward the dark shapes, though the shades easily evaded them.
Daniel saw now why the dwarves had been standing in rings. At the center of each was a dwarven mage, a rare breed. They were protecting the few casters they had from taking any damage. They knew as well as Daniel that magic casters were glass cannons — powerful damage dealers from afar that would crumple into a useless wad of bloody robes the second a melee fighter grazed them with a weapon up close. Now that the elves had fled, they sprang up and did their part to extinguish the evil shadows that chased their teammates.
One dwarf, separated from the pack, ran for cover. He pressed his back against a rock wall, holding an axe in each hand. When the ruined soul swooped toward him, he slashed both axes, but to no effect. The shade slammed into his body, pressing him against the stone.
The ruined soul seemed to inhabit the dwarf’s body, covering him in shadow and turning him nearly translucent. He sank into the stone wall. A second later, something burst forward leaving a hole in the rock roughly the shape of a man.
Gone was the wispy black mob. Equally gone was that poor dwarf. In their stead was something else, some evil amalgam of man and shade and stone. It charged forward on thick rocky legs and hands made of axe blades. Its eyes were hollow and black.
“What is that thing?” Sybil called out. Sal and the rest of their podon stood behind her, some looking tired from the mountain climb.
Daniel squinted at the rock monster.
>> Level 18 Possessed Marauder (blighted).
Level 18, just like the ruined soul that created it.
“We can’t let that keep happening,” Daniel said, pointing at the oncoming mob. Ruined souls danced in the air, expertly avoiding the multi-colored beams and balls of magic that dazzled like a light show.
“I’ll provide cover,” Sal said, holding his iron war hammer up and charging forward in time to deflect the marauder’s first attack. Then he used an old favorite, Distracting Belch, to draw the mutated stone-dwarf’s aggro while Sybil flipped through her songbook.
“The mages need better aim,” Sybil said. “I’ll assist.” She stood calmly near the rock monster and opened her songbook. As long as Sal kept up his end, that monster’s attention was focused only on him.
“Watch this,” Sal said as Hangry appeared over his head next. Each time the rock creature swung an axe-hand at Sal, Sal counterattacked with a quick thrust of his war hammer. His counter landed a solid blow each time, and he quickly regained his defensive posture afterward. An automatic counterattack would make Sal an even more effective tank, dealing damage with every hit he absorbed.
Daniel hacked away at the rock monster with his sword while Sybil sang. The former dwarf ignored Daniel, focused entirely on attacking Sal. If I had a better sword this wouldn’t take so long, Daniel thought. He looked forward to defeating Sivona and seeing the look on Kronnar’s face when Mayor Hammergeld rewarded him with that Fateblade. That is, if they managed to beat back this morning’s crop of strange new mobs.
“Ahem,” Sybil said, as the phrase Witch Hunt appeared above her head.
Somewhere in the village,
There’s an evil witch a-lurkin’.
Find her, find her.
Her smile’s a false image.
For the devil she be workin’!
Bind her, bind her.
We’ll have her blood for spillage,
Then we’re the ones a-smirkin’.
Yes, someone’s gonna bleed tonight.
It’s comin’ from the farmland,
The smell of curses brewin’.
Find her, find her.
The demons she commands,
They’ll be everyone’s undoin’!
Bind her, bind her.
Tie up both her hands,
Hang her from a tree for viewin’.
Yes, someone’s gonna hang tonight.
She’s there inside your dwellin’,
No way out for fleein’.
Find her, find her.
We’ve got to stop her spellin’.
She’s not a natural bein’!
Bind her, bind her.
The crowd is all decreein’:
Yes, you’re gonna die tonight.
Daniel and everyone else in a 500-foot radius picked up a new buff that looked like a crosshairs, floating above their heads.
>> Buff added: Hunter’s Eye. Accuracy of attacks increased 140%.
Sal popped the rock monster in the face with his war hammer, pushing it back a few steps. Daniel jumped and slashed his sword down, chopping a chunk from its shoulder and reducing its HP to zero. Its dense body collapsed to the ground and started to fade away.
>> Possessed Marauder takes 430 Damage.
>> Possessed Marauder dies. You receive 2400 XP.
>> Congratulations! You have improved your Swordfighting combat skill to 11. +14% damage when using a sword.
Just like the mangled dryant Daniel had killed a week ago, the dark magic animating this strange creature provided a healthy XP boost.
The next round of magic attacks swirled through the air like homing missiles. Aided by Sybil’s song, the spells snaked strange paths as they hunted down their targets and collided with the dark fiends overhead. They exploded in a spectacular display of red, blue, and green bursts.
One slain shade fell at Daniel’s feet. It seemed to be a formless ball of shadow covered in a thin, delicate fabric. He tore the fabric off the dead spirit and placed it in his pack.
“What the hell did we just fight?” Sybil asked.
“It was a possessed marauder,” Daniel said.
“I would have guessed body boulder,” Sal said.
“I meant those shadowy things,” Sybil said. “The second they showed up Quinnick panicked and called for a retreat.”
“Whatever it was,” Daniel said, “it took one of our warriors and turned him into a mutated beast, just like monsters we fought on our way into Diardenna last time.”
“The dwarf that got mutated was an NPC, right?” Sybil asked. “It wasn’t a player that happened to?”
“I think it was an NPC,” Sal said. “The game couldn’t do something like that to a player, could it?”
“Mayor!” Daniel yelled. The mayor was at the far end of the battlefield, near the welcome sign to Hiber Camp. He knelt beside Kronnar. Daniel, Sybil, and Sal ran toward them.
“Is he…” Sybil asked.
“I’m alive!” Kronnar said, wincing. “Injured, but alive.”
“Those deathly shades,” the mayor said, shaking his head. “They looked to be the death god’s handiwork.”
“So what do we do?” Daniel asked.
“You must prevail on Hiber to help us,” the mayor said. “We need his strength now more than ever.”
“He won’t help, not until we rescue the dragon imprisoned in Havenstock,” Daniel said. “That’s the second quest in the Ancient Mystery quest chain. Breaking into the castle and saving the dragon.”
“Then you must do that, and hurry,” the mayor said.
“We have no way into Havenstock at the moment,” Daniel said. He didn’t want to explain that he had poisoned the last army he was a part of and was promptly banished from the human kingdom.
The mayor shook his head. “Without a powerful ally on our side, Sivona will overrun Hiber Camp in a matter of days. We’ve lost too many soldiers. We need Hiber here while you rescue the goddess of life. She’s the only one powerful enough to hold back the forces of death.”
And prevent Travail from becoming a no-man’s land of crumbled terrain, failed resource nodes, and zero opportunity to earn a living, Daniel thought.
“How widespread is the problem with the stability of the land?” Sal asked. “Maybe if we wait, Havenstock’s castle will start to fall apart too and Embra can just climb out of the rubble.”
“This has been going on for a while now,” Daniel said. “We’ve seen the desert pushing toward the Dour Scrub, and the forest starting to rot. Today it looked like the rot was much worse.”
“All of Travail is crumbling to dust,” the mayor said. “If this dragon is trapped beneath the castle, she may not survive its collapse. It takes little stone to crush the life out of any creature, even an ancient like the dragon. Free her if you must, so that Hiber will fight for us.”
“Oh my god, Daniel,” Sybil said, “the minotaurs. They’re trapped under the purple mountains of The Ersatz. If the mayor is right, they’re doomed.”
“The drow slaughtered the cows ages ago,” the mayor said, “when they first stole the Aster Mountains for themselves and renamed them ‘The Ersatz.’”
“No,” Sybil said, “they’re still killing them. Slowly, as part of some perverse initiation rite for new drow. There is a whole civilization under there. If we rescue them, I’ll bet they would repay us by helping against the elves.”
“Free the minotaurs,” the mayor said, “from the drow? Impossible. Go to Havenstock. There isn’t much time.”
“Daniel,” Sybil said, “the last time we went to The Ersatz, the minotaurs gave me a quest to restore their rightful control over their homeland. They said I was their last hope. You know as well as I do that only drow go to The Ersatz, and they’re all too happy to participate in the initiation quest and slaughter more minotaurs. We’d be the first to help them, and we’d have the first crack at whatever rewards they’re prepared to dole out. Rewards that could help us kill Sivona.”
“It’s too farfetched,” the mayor said. “I feel for the minotaurs, but I cannot put their survival ahead of the dwarves’ own. Embra is the clear path. Rescue one dragon and win Hiber’s allegiance. Perhaps the dragon will aid us too.”
The mayor was Daniel’s boss, and it was clear which choice he wanted Daniel to make. This, however, might be Sybil’s last chance to finish a rare quest to save the minotaur race and live up to her title, Last Hope of the Minotaurs. Daniel hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by going against the mayor’s wishes.
“With all due respect, Mr. Mayor,” he said, “I plan to rescue the minotaurs without sacrificing the dwarves’ survival. I’ll leave the army in Lieutenant Kronnar’s hands while I go on a mission to secure a new ally in the minotaurs.”
“You would disobey my wishes?” The mayor yelled. “I am the Chief of State!”
“Which is why,” Sybil said, “you should order Daniel to leave for The Ersatz at once. Otherwise it might look like you had lost control of your General.”
The mayor sneered at them. “Get out of my sight. If you come back here a failure I will relieve you of your duties.”
Daniel bowed his head and walked away with Sybil and Sal. “I hope you’re right about this Sybil,” he said. “I got fired from my last class. I don’t want that to happen again.”
“I hope so too,” she said. “Seems like a pretty impossible quest, but hey, don’t they all lately?”
She dug a spherical stone from her inventory bag. It was dark blue, with flecks of gold buried in it. The gold shimmered and floated like a snow globe. “This is the large teleport orb King Rumin gave me. It will take us back to the minotaurs.”
“Can you take all of us?” Daniel asked.
“Yes, but it’s a one-way ticket,” she said.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Daniel said. Sybil looked eager to get started, but Sal just stared at his oversized boots.
“Sal, is something wrong?” Daniel asked.
“Well,” he said, “it’s just that there’s this festival I kinda wanted to go to.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sybil asked. “Travail itself is falling apart. This is no time for carnival rides!”
“It only happens once a year,” Sal pleaded, “and it’s just for ogres. I get a free teleport there. The XP and prizes are decent. And I really, really enjoy it.”
Sybil crossed her arms and looked at Daniel for support.
“Let’s think about this,” Daniel said. “I picked up Nightvision as a Scout, and you have it from your days as a drow. Sal can’t see in the dark at all. If we’ll be underground for a long time, Sa
l might be more of a liability than anything else.”
Sal’s eyes sparked with hope. “Let him have some fun,” Daniel said.
Sybil looked at Daniel, then Sal. “We don’t have time to discuss this,” she said. “If you’re leaving, go now.”
Sal gave Sybil a bear hug, easily enveloping the small elf in his rippling folds of green flab. “I’ll catch up with you guys soon, I promise!” In a blink, he had teleported away.
“You’re too soft,” Sybil said. “The Ersatz will be difficult and we would have been better off with Sal’s help. Travail isn’t all fun and games, it’s a job.”
“He’ll come out of the festival with XP, or gear, or something to show for it,” Daniel said. “It is work. Let it be fun work for once.”
Sybil dropped her arms to her sides and sighed. “Fine. Ready?”
Daniel nodded. “I hope this is the right move.” He reached his hand out, palm down. Sybil brought up the teleport orb, cradled in her hand, and pressed it up until it met Daniel’s. The cold, smooth stone crackled with energy where their skin touched it.
>> Teleport to The Ersatz? Y / N
Daniel gave a simple thought command and the game did the rest, whisking him away from a battlefield full of dead dwarves and depositing him in the utter darkness of the tunnels beneath the drow’s stronghold.
7
“Concentrate,” Mother Storna said, her voice echoing through the cavernous temple carved deep into the mountain’s side.
That was easier said than done. Farah knelt at the altar in the dwarves’ temple to Podonos while the sounds of battle raged on outside. Each plaintive cry of pain and every clang of metal made her flinch.