by Tao Wong
“On your left,” Daniel called out to Bjarne as he took his place in the line. Together, the pair focused on holding the line. A quick block with his shield gave Daniel enough time to unleash a Double Strike that broke first an elbow then on the return swing lodge a spike in a thigh. Immediately, Daniel stepped back a little, giving his opponent time to stumble back as he bled his life away via a torn artery.
“We hold here,” Daniel ordered the group. “And kill them slowly.”
As if Daniel’ words were an insult, the half-dozen remaining Orcs that still stood threw themselves at the Adventurers. After a half-dozen passes, Daniel’s eyes tightened in surprise. He took another blow from a wildly swung mace, deflected it to the side, and gave the deflection a slight push to open the Orc further. A beat later, Daniel caught a sword strike on the haft of his axe, deflecting to the side with a slight spin before he used a reverse strike to sink the spike into the first Orc’s shield. A pull brought the Orc stumbling forward and lowered the shield enough for Daniel’s horizontally held shield rim to crush nose and cheekbones as the Adventurer triggered Shield Bash. Then, it was just a matter of blocking the next attack. The first few seconds of the holding action had the Orcs reeling, each contact with the Adventurer’s enhanced, damaging aura sending shocks through them. Even a blocked attack jarred, if not damaged.
The Orcs were strong and aggressive. Even with his own enhanced strength, Daniel found each blow hard to receive directly. But, strong or not, the creatures that used to be such dangerous threats were surprisingly easy. Their levels might be equal to his own Adventurer-ranked one, but they were specialized. And inexperienced. Unskilled. Raw and aggressive, but without the hint of polish that the Adventurers had. They did not even have a Soldier’s discipline.
Perrin’s Strike lashed out, coming in overhand with a short, sharp strike that crashed directly onto the remaining Orc’s head. The blow crushed the head, pushing the creature’s skull into its neck, blood splattering as light flashed around the hammer. A notification appeared—one that Daniel had not seen in ages.
Orc Warrior (Level 9) Summon Captured
Even as the monster staggered backwards, Hjalmar appeared behind it, sliding short swords into its torso and twisting. The monster kicked feebly before falling still, the rogue pushing the corpse aside. The three front line fighters panted, staring around the entrance to the clearing with wide eyes as they realised the fight was done.
“Orcs!” Another voice, this time from the other clearing.
Daniel jerked his head upwards, twisting to the other clearing. Already, he could see Elisa, Sumuhan, and Uppulu standing guard, the three having arrived back at some point in their fight. In moments, the last group of hunters arrived, stumbling in.
“Healer!” Voices rose, calling for Daniel.
“Go. We’ll watch this clearing,” Bjarne ordered.
Daniel hesitated, looking up to Asin who was stringing the crossbow. The Catkin was crouched forward, back leg claws extended and gripping the stone as her tail lashed out behind her. She caught Daniel’s gaze, giving him a curt nod even as she watched for more trouble.
“Healing potion. Come on, come on!”
Daniel looked over to the injured merchants, the disemboweled man that was dying, his injuries too far gone for any simple potion. He bit his lips, but Daniel ran forwards to do his job. To heal while his friends killed.
“Knew this was a bad idea. Knew this was dumb. Stupid Ranger. Stupid Orcs,” Asin growled under her breath in Catkin as she finished nocking the crossbow and placed it on her shoulder. The Catkin sighted down the weapon, exhaled, and then gently pressed on the trigger. The knockback shook her shoulder briefly before the Catkin started nocking the crossbow again, her gaze still fixed on her target.
The crossbow bolt flew through the air, drawing a beautiful parabolic before it punched through thin leather armor and impaled the Orc Warrior. It staggered back, gurgling around its punctured lung and buying the fleeing Adventurers time. Craig and the remaining members of the hunting party were backing off, the hunting merchants aiding the group with a flurry of arrows. Asin growled softly, staring at the crossbow beneath her hands. Her Skill Fan of Knives or the aura from her bracer were useless at this range.
As she heaved, the Catkin turned her head sideways, thin but wiry muscles pulling as the string pulled back. Head turning sideways, Asin scanned for more trouble and found it. A loud yowl had the Adventurers look up at her.
“Patrol! Seven,” Asin snarled out to the group, her finger pointing to where the orcs were approaching the first entrance. Damn it. They were going to be pinned in.
Standing up, the Beastkin’s tail continued to lash out behind her as she scanned the forest, hoping to find clues of what else might be coming. But the dense foliage blocked the Beastkin’s ability to see anything more, though instinct told her that the two groups coming forth were not the only one. There was no way that there were just a few patrols, not when there were so many. Though, it did raise the question of why and how there could be so many Orcs here. And, most importantly, as Asin scanned the campsite once again… Where was Tula?
Arrow Storm! The Skill triggered in silence, the Ranger hidden above in the foliage watching as her single arrow blossomed into a half-dozen more. They rained down on the Orc patrol from the Clay Spiders, landing amidst the hurrying group; killing one and injuring three others. Even as the group snarled and looked around for their attacker, the Ranger was backing off, disappearing into the woods again.
Four. The fourth patrol. Tula’s lips curled up in a snarl even as she hurried away, pressing herself against a tree when the lumbering sounds of the Orc patrol that had been chasing her caught up. She slowed her breathing, stretching her senses to the maximum as she waited to see if she would be found out.
The Orcs lumbered past, missing the stealthy Ranger who continued to stay still, waiting. Her caution was soon proven vital as a last straggler came along, this one creeping by slowly. Tula waited, watching the monster walked past before she moved, nocking her arrow and triggering Penetrating Strike. Even as the Orc flinched as the sound of the string loosening caught up to it, the arrow lodged itself in its throat and back of its neck, dropping the monster soundlessly.
Quickly, Tula hurried over to the body and pulled it aside, hiding the corpse in the undergrowth before patting it down. She tossed aside feather and stone fetishes after glancing at them briefly, pocketed the few coins the monster had and eyed the single, rotten piece of meat in its pouch.
Starving.
Tula shivered, her suspicions confirmed at last. The too thin Orcs, the unusual movements of the tribe, and their appearance in the Great Forest. This was a losing tribe. One driven from their home by a more powerful tribe. One that they had great enmity with, for otherwise, they would have just been subsumed. Now, they wandered, hoping to find a place to rest. Wandered and starved.
Body covered, the Ranger stood up and debated her next course of action. By the time she had learnt of their movements, the fast-moving Orc patrols had encountered the first hunting party. Once that happened, an encounter was guaranteed. Bad luck that she had been checking the traps on the other side of the perimeter when they had entered.
Now, the only question was how to reduce the damage. Tula stood silently, considering and discarding plans in quick order. The Orcs would go after the hunters and find the campsite. That much was guaranteed. They would know that any expedition would have food—more than they currently had. So the group’s best option was to run. Tula made a face, looking to where the campsite was.
However, the majority of the Orc patrols were between her and the encampment. It was going to take time for her to make her way back. And it would be nearly impossible to sneak into the camp itself. In that case, she could only hope that the Catkin’s secondary escape plan worked.
Chapter 13
Daniel finished bandaging the wound around the merchant’s leg and then look
ed around for water. Finding the bucket another merchant had dropped by him, he dunked his hands in it, washing the blood off before shaking the excess water away. The smell of blood and vomit mixed with the burnt flesh and wood smell of fires ahead, reminding Daniel of the fight that still rung through the clearing. Hands dry, Daniel was turning to the next patient.
Instead of another injured merchant, Craig dropped down beside Daniel, cradling one gashed forearm. Without thinking, Daniel eyed the wound and splashed water over it, washing out the bleeding wound to eye the damage. No foreign matter, no leather stuck in it. The bandage Daniel grabbed went around the limb, wrapping around it again and again as he began the spell formulation in his mind.
“How goes it?” Daniel asked, looking up to the clearing gaps. The merchant fighters had picked up their spears, joining the fight at a distance to help the undermanned Adventurers to hold off the Orcs. Twenty minutes into the fight, Daniel had yet to move from the improvised aid station they had set-up for him.
“We hold,” Craig said. “Healer’s Mark is sufficient. I have a regenerative Skill.”
Daniel paused before he nodded, finishing the incantation. His hands, in the midst of wrapping the bandage, paused as they glowed and layered the spell on the man before Daniel finished tying off the bandage. “You’re good.”
“I’ll send the next back,” Craig said.
Daniel could only nod dumbly, eyeing his Mana as Craig trotted back to the front lines. Even if the man was acting nonchalant, Daniel recalled hearing the harsh breathing, and he sensed the heightened heartbeat and buildup of lactic acid in the man’s muscles. It was hard to hide things from a Healer, especially one that had just finished casting a spell of healing on you.
As Sumuhan jogged over, Daniel dismissed the thoughts from his mind as he checked on his Mana. After a couple of casts of Minor Healing II when an Adventurer or Merchant had been damaged too greatly and repeated casts of Healer’s Mark, he was running low. Now, Daniel really ached to have an upgrade of his healing spells. If he had known he would be stuck playing healer…
Mana: 157/252
“How many healing potions do we have left?” Daniel asked his helper. The man looked down at the small pile of potions in their container, counting them over before replying.
“Six high, four middle, and eight low grade, Healer.”
“Not a Healer,” Daniel corrected. “But thank you.” Of course, Daniel knew that number did not include the individual potions some of the Adventurers carried. These were just the expedition’s potions—the ones that had been purchased for emergencies. Since high and middle-end potions could last for years, the purchase of them could be considered an investment. As for low-end potions, they could easily be resold if necessary. Smart expedition managers – like Sava – ensured they had more than enough on hand, for most situations.
Most, not including a full-frontal assault by a clan of Orcs.
And then, there was no more time as Hjalmar appeared beside Daniel, limping and favoring his leg.
An hour later, Daniel threw one last strike with his hammer at an Orc, making sure it backed off properly before he stepped back too, lowering his hammer. The Orcs backed off, disappearing into the cover of foliage and behind their shields as they rested and waited for more reinforcements. In turn, the Adventurers and fighting Merchants took a break, drinking water and bandaging wounds. Letting his hammer fall by its wrist strap, Daniel turned to look at his compatriots, checking for damage and for what he could do. Surprisingly, no shouts of ‘healer’ erupted, relieving Daniel. He still had a few spells left, but his slowly regenerating Mana was best used for utter emergencies.
“How many?” Daniel asked Sava as he came by, offering a waterskin. As Sava answered, Daniel washed his face with a handful of water before consuming a good quarter of the bottle. Fighting was hard and thirsty work.
“Asin said there were at least two more patrols that joined. So, thirty? Forty?” Sava said.
“They have brought their Orc Raiders and higher leveled Warriors,” Omrak rumbled. Having allowed himself to heal, the big Northerner had taken his place in the front line with Daniel, the pair of Adventurers making a formidable force after so much time working together. Backed up with a few merchants with their spears and Rob with his spells, the group had held one clearing entirely by themselves while Craig’s team had taken the other side, healing and resting in the meantime. “The battles have been getting harder.”
“True,” Daniel said, brow furrowing. The silent entrance to the clearing seemed to grow ever more ominous as Daniel stared at it, his breath shorting as he considered their future. Healing potions had decreased, Mana had faded, and even Asin’s bolts from above had stopped falling as often. Even now, the non-combatant merchants were pulling out arrows and bolts from corpses, shoving the bodies about to create a blockade. Daniel knew they would bring those arrows and bolts back to the archers, but many were unrecoverable.
“Can we hold?” Sava asked softly, dropping his voice as he stepped close to Daniel.
Daniel glanced to the side, seeing how some of the merchants had stopped their actions to listen in to his answer. Daniel hesitated for a second before he answered, “Yes.” But that hesitation was telling. One that made Sava tighten his lips in dissatisfaction. “We should speak with Craig.”
Sava nodded, and Daniel waved to the resting Adventurers to make sure they knew to take his place. Once he was certain that the clearing would hold, Daniel led Sava over to the other Adventuring captain, the trio meeting in a clearing midway between both entrances.
“What?” Craig said.
“The Orcs keep getting reinforcements,” Daniel said.
“I know. We’ve killed at least twenty of their men,” Craig said. He pressed his lips together as he regarded the narrow entrances to the clearing and then the broken-down masonry clogged with vegetation that made up the rest. “It might be harder to get in outside the clearing, but at some point, even Orcs will try it. At that time…”
“We cannot hold,” Sava said.
“I would not say cannot,” Craig rebutted.
“But it’d be hard,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “We’d need to keep those on rest right now on alert. We’d be expanding our front further.”
“Then, what, we breakthrough?” Craig said, looking at the clearing. “Even if we managed to do that, we’d be forced to fight in the forest. And where would we go?”
“Way out. Up there,” Asin said, interrupting the group. The Catkin offered a toothy smile while pointing to her guard post. The group frowned, staring up at the steep climb off the ruins.
“Then what? We’d still be in the forest,” Craig said with a snort.
“No,” Asin said. She chopped her hand down firmly. “Cliff. Forest. Gorge.”
“The Esman Gorge?” Sava said and Asin nodded. “That… I was willing to risk it earlier, but with the Orcs, they would stir up the raptors for sure.”
“Yes. Distraction,” Asin nodded quickly.
“I don’t know. The Ranger…”
“Talked. Agreed,” Asin said, flashing a wide smile at Sava. “Backup.”
“Yes, the Ranger who is not here now. Who we need to make our way through the gorge safely,” Craig said, his fist clenching tightly in frustration.
“Tula will find us,” Daniel assured Craig. He looked over to Asin, the Catkin flashing Daniel a confident smile before he drew a deep breath. “Look. Our chances of surviving are low, especially if there are more Orcs coming. I don’t know how many there are, but them pulling back like this makes me think there’s more. And probably higher Level leaders. If we can avoid a fight…”
Craig tapped his foot, looking back and forth between the clearings and the ruins, hesitation clear on his face.
“I’ll trust the Ranger, if I have a say in this,” Sava said. Now that a fight had begun, the actual command of the expedition had devolved to the Ranger and the Adventurers.
Without Tula, it was Craig in charge.
“Trust her…” Craig said, then sighed in defeat. “Fine. If we die, I’m going to bitch at you all down the river.”
“Done,” Daniel said. “So, what now?”
Craig frowned, his mind obviously spinning through options. In short order, he began giving out orders to Sava and Daniel. Asin was called upon to provide even more information, which resulted in Sumuhan coming over to translate and expand upon the concepts from the Catkin. And all the while, Daniel could not help but glance back towards the clearing, wondering when the next attack would arrive. And if they would make it in time.
“Up!” Asin said, calling down to the Merchants. Holding onto their bags, the group had ascended the ruins, dragging their tired bodies and their luggage up. Perched next to Asin, Elisa helped the Merchants up, offering a hand and directing them to the top of the ridge where a pair of ropes hung, waiting for them.
“Here they come,” Elisa said, moving away from the Merchants to clear her line of fire. “I got two.”
“Omrak, remember to pull back when we tell you to,” Daniel warned his big friend. The Northerner sniffed in reply, the tip of his sword resting on the ground as he conserved energy. Daniel shot a worried look at his silent friend before he dismissed the concerns. It was nothing he could do about it, not right now. “Rob, are you ready?”
“Spheres are ready. After this, I’ll be down to only two charged spheres,” Rob said. “I hate leaving them here…”
“Better your spheres than our necks.”
“True enough,” Rob said. “What are they doing over that side?”
Daniel shrugged, unsure how the other team intended to break contact. He had just been assured that they had their ways.