by Dean Henegar
Once the engineers started their work, I reviewed my infantry position. We could field a line twenty men across. The roads were well paved and wide enough for two wagons to pass each other. With two platoons holding it, the defenders would have a front twenty men wide and five ranks deep—just what I needed. Any more forces bunched up on the road would only lead to us getting in each other’s way.
I had the Third through Fifth Platoons leave their javelins with us and head back to town to resume their post as a reserve force. My shield wall was just there as a backup to my main plan. The men of the Second Platoon hammered out a few sharpened stakes facing the direction of our enemy’s approach, while First Platoon continued its destruction of the safety rail. The main part of my plan would have to wait until we knew the enemy was near. I was counting on the Drebix spotting them without being killed or captured by the strange creatures that screened the enemy army.
I called a halt to our preparations when it became too dark to work. I allowed the men to make a few fires and prepare their meals. The enemy forces were used to fighting in the darkness and would spot us before we spotted them, and a few cookfires wouldn’t change that outcome either way. In fact, I ended up telling the men to build up some bigger fires farther down the path so we could get eyeballs on the enemy as they approached.
One of the Drebix appeared in the dark, dragging a wounded legion scout and startling the squad of soldiers on watch. “War leader Raytak, we found one of your scouts struggling up the path. The enemy would have overtaken him if we hadn’t been there,” the Drebix said, gently laying the scout down. His armor had been punctured in several places, and the foul smell of a wound gone bad emanated from him.
“Medic, get over here and do what you can,” I ordered. Sadly, treating the man was beyond our ability; some poison or disease prevented the medic’s bandage from healing the wound.
“He was determined to get this to you,” the Drebix skirmisher said, handing me a report.
“How far away is the enemy army?” I asked.
“Their main force is an hour behind me at their current pace. The rest of my skirmishers will be falling back soon,” he advised.
“Thank you for your efforts. Head on back to your duties in town,” I said. Beremund’s Drebix were brave fighters but weren’t suited to the type of fight I had in mind.
Colonel Raytak,
The enemy has unleashed even more skirmishing forces than normal, and I’m unable to get an exact count of their forces. Just before I composed this report, two smaller columns of troops that match the description of the forces sent to capture the southern transition point and the Stonefinder mines have joined the main force, adding to the enemy’s overall numbers. We will return to town unless you have further orders, though I feel it is necessary to advise you that pushing harder to get an accurate count of the foe would be a suicide mission.
I walked out to the area that had the guardrails removed and pulled an item from my inventory. The Promise Kept artifact from Tessel seemed like the perfect way to gum up the works and delay the enemy army. Not quite sure how it functioned, or even if the roadway left it enough room to do its thing, I activated the artifact. With a green glow of magic, the root dissolved into the ground, and within moments, plant growth began to spring forth. A row of trees grew up, blocking the roadway, their roots anchoring them solidly into the rocky soil. Tendrils of vine-like growths dug themselves into the hillside above and below the road, expanding the wall of vegetation. The process took only around a minute, and after that, the road was completely blocked. After the initial growth was completed, I started to see movement near the treetops.
A small humanoid descended into view. It was around four feet tall and looked like a cross between a halfling and a plant. It wore only a simple loincloth and held a wooden spear in one hand. A belt with a small stone dagger and several pouches rounded out its equipment. By focusing on the creature, I was able to see its description.
Rootkin, Level 7: Rootkin are a strange race that appears to be a mix of plant and mammal. Seldom seen naturally, the race is typically encountered when summoned by nature magic. A rootkin is linked to a small natural area and will defend that area to the death. The higher a rootkin’s level, the larger and more powerful it becomes. Rootkin have an innate ability to use nature magic and at higher levels can be both fierce warriors and potent spellcasters.
More and more of the creatures began to appear among the foliage. If I remembered correctly, the power of the defenders would improve over time but their number was limited to one hundred. While I somehow knew I couldn’t order the rootkin directly, I could feel that they saw me as a trusted ally and would do all they could to defend the area we had called them to.
Our preparations were complete, and all I could do was wait for the imp’s army to appear. Every few minutes, the defenders of Promise Kept changed. It started when I noticed larger rootkin appearing among the smaller versions. They were a head taller and were level 10 instead of level 7 like the others. Over five or so minutes, the smaller defenders were replaced by their larger kin. I didn’t see where the smaller guys went; they just were fewer in number until the bigger ones had replaced them all. Five minutes later, the second wave of upgrades began among the rootkin. Now they were level 12 and stood at nearly the height of a man. Their weapons and gear improved as well. They wielded longer spears with a wooden tip that wept a nasty toxin. A small shield made of writhing vines was held in their off hand, and the same type of vine-like armor covered their torsos.
One of the Drebix skirmishers appeared on the opposite side of the wall of plants, skidding to a stop with a look of concern on his face. Recognizing the Drebix as an ally, a rootkin trilled a strange noise and the trees parted to allow his passage through. As soon as the skirmisher was through the vegetation, it sealed again behind him. The skirmisher looked back in awe at what he had just seen.
“Well, do you have a report?” I asked, jostling the skirmisher from his daze.
“Yes, the last of my team are returning and the enemy is on our heels. Our foes march through the night without showing any signs of stopping. They should be here in a matter of minutes, sir,” the skirmisher advised. Another five minutes passed, and the remaining Drebix came through the wall of vegetation; all were as surprised by its appearance as their comrade.
After sending the Drebix back to town, I waited for the enemy. By the time I heard the imp’s army, Promise Kept had improved even more. The rootkin were now level 14 with a handful of level 15 creatures among them. They were as tall as a man, and the strange plant-based armor covered most of their exposed flesh. While only one level higher, the level 15 rootkin looked vastly different from the others. Their bodies were completely covered in the swirling vines and twigs that made up their armor, and they carried a spear that glowed with enchantments. It would be interesting to see what they could do against the enemy, the first of which were beginning to appear at the edges of the watchfires I had ordered built along the trail.
The lead force comprised the hideous lurkers. The hairless monsters growled and clawed at the ground, waiting for the order to attack. Behind the lurkers, a block of troggs appeared, marching directly for the vegetation blocking their path. The rootkin shuffled their forces. Many seemed to disappear into the thick foliage of their fortifications.
“Sergeant, stand the men to. We’ll form up just behind our allies. Catapult team, open fire, multi-shot. I want the scorpions to hold ready in case a large threat shows itself,” I ordered. The two remaining platoons created a shield wall and readied their javelins. We settled in around twenty yards behind the plant-based fortifications, content to let the artifact whittle down the enemy before we crossed blades. I knew from our prior battle against Narbos’s army that the tunnel wurms seemed to keep toward the surface, where the ground was softer. Here on the roadway, the ground and mountainside were solid stone, and I was betting the tunnel wurms couldn’t make it through.
With
a loud thump, the catapult fired. A half dozen round stones slammed into the approaching troggs. Wails of pain accompanied the sickening sound of rock hitting flesh. Normally able to bounce two or three times before running out of steam, a few of the shots that hadn’t hit the massed troggs slammed into the mountainside, shattering on the hard surface. Fragments of sharp stone sprayed out at the troggs, causing even more injuries. The troggs picked up their pace, increasing their speed to a slow trot as the catapult crew reloaded the machine.
“Sir, permission to begin my work,” the mind mage asked. I nodded in reply, and the mage closed his eyes and bowed his head, concentrating and building up the strange magic he controlled. A pair of lurkers that were still holding beyond catapult range suddenly charged forward. As they reached the rear of the trogg formation, they began to slash and bite at their allies, sewing confusion and inflicting casualties among their ranks. The troggs at the rear of the formation turned and began to fight back as most of the troggs continued their assault.
What looked like a hail of stones flew from the fortifications and landed among the lead troggs. While many of the rootkin were hidden, I did spot a few of them winding up slings for another shot. The range on the slings seemed good. Not quite as far as a bow, but much better than the javelins thrown by my soldiers. As the first wave of projectiles hit, I realized they hadn’t been stones at all. The sling ammunition was something akin to a large walnut, a plant-based projectile. When they hit, the hollow shells did little damage—at first. Upon impact, the shells cracked open and root-like tendrils shot out, burrowing into any exposed flesh.
The afflicted troggs howled in pain, ripping at the mass of roots burrowing into them. Many of the troggs at the edge of the road lost their footing, plummeting to their deaths. The damage and distraction broke up the enemy formation even more as the lead troggs reached the wall of foliage. The troggs hadn’t been prepared for a wall of trees in their path. Without scaling ladders or siege towers, they could only try to climb the smooth bark of the trees, some stopping to boost others up to the tops of the wall.
Spears began to thrust out from small gaps in the wall, gaps that closed after each strike and only reopened once the defending rootkin was ready for another thrust. Unable to gain any headway or even get more than a handful of their forces atop the wall, the troggs nevertheless fought to the last, never breaking or trying to surrender.
A pair of Ikbose had been at the edge of the battlefield, one of which ran off, presumably to report on the results of the first skirmish. Based on Ty’s descriptions of his encounters with Zipp’s forces, I expected another push by more of his expendable troops and instead met just more of the enemy milling about at the edge of our watchfires.
The quiet was broken by a series of shrieks and roars from the enemy line, the noise growing louder as an enormous creature heaved its way into the firelight. I had seen something similar before when we battled the ghoul lord’s army. Standing as tall as the tree wall, the enemy pox hydra entered the fight. Seven heads extended from the creature’s body, each looking for a victim.
“All batteries, open fire on that thing. Take it down!” I shouted to my siege engines and waited for the first volley to hit. Instead of the clack of scorpions firing, I heard screams come from the crews behind us.
“Sir, an attack from the cliff face!” one of my soldiers yelled. I turned to see the forms of several giant spiders crawling down the cliff face and skittering directly toward my formation. I knew that Zipp had such creatures under his control, but facing a giant spider the size of a horse was still a shock. They must have been scurrying along the mountain face, just out of sight, while the troggs held our attention. Back at the siege engine, a dozen of the creatures tore through the surprised engineers.
Spiders began to leap down into my formation. The men were formed up to face a standard infantry attack from the front, not an attack from above. As the first spiders landed, they crushed soldiers beneath them, their spear-like legs impaling their targets. Gaps were torn in our ranks as more and more spiders entered the fight. My men desperately tried to fend them off and reform their broken ranks. Several soldiers were pushed off the cliff face, bulled over the railing by the giant creatures.
I activated a charge of Goon Squad, and a score of crazed prisoners attacked the spiders with their makeshift prison shanks. The goons bought me enough time to form up a couple of squads along with the mind mage, our weapons facing both the main threat on the road as well as the still-dropping creatures on the cliff face. Pockets of resistance formed as the last of the spiders landed. Thankfully, there only appeared to be thirty or so of the things, half of which had, sadly, wiped out my siege engines.
The sound of cracking wood at the fortification drew my attention for a moment. Despite showing several wounds, the hydra had forced its way through the barrier, the heads snapping at the defending rootkin. Plants withered in its presence, the foul corruption of the creature inflicting damage in an aura around it. As I watched, the monster halted and stood still for a moment. The mind mage next to me was muttering, blood pouring from his nose and ears as he channeled his power in an attempt to assert control over the hydra. Seeing an opening, the rootkin swarmed their foe, spears driving deep into its flesh.
With a shake of its heads, the hydra broke free of the mage’s power, the fresh damage enraging it beyond control. Heads lashed down and rootkin died with each attack. Still, the defenders didn’t give up; each rootkin death was offset by a few more blows leveled against their foe. The mage at my feet gurgled; the backlash from overexerting himself was rapidly draining his health. I slapped a bandage on him, but it didn’t seem to heal the type of damage he had sustained. The last bit of health ticked down, and the mage expired.
Turning my focus back to the fight against the spiders, I could see that the last pair were being harried by my troops and would soon fall. The cost had been high; I had lost my entire engineer team and twenty-two of my regulars. I didn’t have enough men to continue the fight. While the hydra was concentrated on the remaining rootkin, I ordered the men to fall back to town on the double. My little ambush had failed, and the Promise Kept artifact would be on cooldown for a long time.
We had made it only a few hundred yards when the pounding of hooves closed in on us. Zipp had some evil unicorns in his order of battle, and even if Ty had thinned out their numbers, they would make short work of my small force if they caught us on the march. We were trapped. If we fled toward town, we would be ridden down one by one, and if we stopped to fight, more enemy forces would arrive as they pushed their way through the remaining rootkin. If I was going down, I planned to take as many of the enemy with me as I could.
“Hold up! First Platoon, reform ranks and ready your javelins. Second Platoon, hand over your javelins and get back to town now!” I shouted. The men, to their credit, stopped their flight and reformed, the soldiers of Second Platoon reluctantly leaving their comrades after giving up their few remaining javelins. If we bought them enough time, the forty-four men in Second Platoon should make it safely back to Hayden’s Knoll.
With just over thirty soldiers left, we formed a line across the road. I took a place in the second rank, ready to step up and fill in any gaps. Out of the darkness, black-coated unicorns charged our position. We met them with a volley of javelins just before they crashed into our line. The soldier in front of me tried to hold back one of the beasts, his shield raised and his feet braced for the blow. I leaned my shoulder into him, adding my weight. A tremendous force slammed into us, hurling me back several feet and onto my butt, and I took a few points of fall damage as I went.
The soldier I had been bracing was down, the deathicorn creature trampling him into the roadbed and then turning its head toward me. I nearly activated Honor Guard but held off; the battle was just beginning, and there might be a greater need for it and my remaining charges of Goon Squad later in the fight. My shield had been knocked from my grasp, but I had kept a firm grip on my sw
ord.
“Come on, ugly. Get a good taste of my Imperium steel,” I taunted. The deathicorn pawed at the ground in a very horse-like manner before it began its charge. The ground shook as the heavy beast charged directly at me, its head lowered and the strange horn pointed directly at my heart. I thrust with my sword even as I tried to shift to the side and out of its line of charge.
I could feel the steel of my blade biting deep into the deathicorn’s chest even as its horn punched through my lorica segmentata and into my belly. With all the breath knocked from my lungs, I couldn’t scream. Intense pain radiated from my wound. The deathicorn shook its head, tossing my impaled body aside and inflicting even more damage. I was down to a quarter of my health and facing ongoing bleed and poison damage. Pulling out my dagger, I struggled to regain my feet, only to be bowled over by the deathicorn once more. A hoof crushed my right leg before the beast’s attention shifted to a pair of soldiers attacking it with their swords.
After fumbling for a bandage, I managed to slap one over the wound. The bandage took care of the bleed debuff but did nothing for the poison burning its way through my body. The heal-over-time effect from the bandage seemed to be keeping pace with the poison, but as soon as it wore off, I would be in trouble. I pulled my way toward the embattled deathicorn, hoping to get at least one blow in with my dagger, when something grabbed hold of my crushed leg and began to chew. I lashed out on instinct, scoring a bloody line across the face of a new arrival to the fight.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to myself as I watched a giant pink bunny with several rows of sharp teeth begin to grind apart my leg, oblivious to the minor damage I had caused it. Atop the bunny sat an imp. It wasn’t Zipp, but something about the little monster’s mannerisms reminded me of him.