by J. T. Wright
All except for the Corporal. He screamed a wordless challenge and spit at a Skeletal Knight as his sword flashed. He made up for its lack of length with speed, slashing and hacking, staying close, and pressing the Knight.
An opening! Without enchanted weapons, the Guardsmen had no easy way of taking down the Undead Knights. They could wear them down, eventually. All creatures had a limit to the damage they could withstand, but magic was the only way to take out the Undead quickly. So, the opening that appeared for the Corporal wasn’t an opportunity to attack a vital point. No, it was a poorly held sword.
Disarming was one of Frank’s favorite Skills. He loved the way the light reflected off a blade as it soared away from its owner. He adored the horrified look on an opponent’s face when they watched a beloved weapon fly away. The Skeletal Knight didn’t give him the satisfaction of the second, but he was willing to settle for the first.
He grabbed the creature’s wrist with his free hand and stepped in close. He jerked the Knight off balance and hammered away at its helmet, as much with his hilt as with his blade.
“Lyra!” Frank grunted, calling for the Healer at his back.
Lyra had stayed as close to the Corporal as possible, and now she stepped forward, jabbing with her staff.
“Purification!” The trigger word spoken, the Spell erupted at the staff’s end. The many times she had cast it on Fleshlings had leveled Purification enough that she didn’t need physical contact anymore. Her staff made things so much cleaner. The power had increased as the cost decreased. Efficient and clean, her maid’s heart approved.
Behind the Skeletal Knight’s visor, a pale green light burned where eyes should have been. Those sickly false eyes flared as the light of Purification swept over their owner. Lyra cast the Spell again, and with shocking suddenness the Knight disappeared. Frank was the most surprised, his hand abruptly grabbing nothing while his sword cut through air, and eventually lodged in the wood on the wall.
Coins, a potion, and a sword were all that was left of the Skeletal Knight. There were some benefits when no one in your party had Harvesting. There was no doubt about when an enemy was defeated.
The next opponent was already on the wall and waiting. How convenient. No, there were two waiting now. They were starting to pile up. No, not waiting, attacking. Rude sons of whores.
Frank engaged the next Knight, thankful that the wall was narrow enough to keep them from attacking together. Of course, he also didn’t have much room to maneuver. He couldn’t move too far from the ladder or let them get past him to the stairs. It made for an inelegant brawl rather than a daring fight between two warriors. Frank was further hampered by the longsword that threatened his footing now and again.
Wait, longsword. One of the drops was a one-handed longsword. Almost definitely a better weapon than the Guards’ shorter blades. In tight quarters the short swords were proving their worth, but if that longsword was enchanted…
Who needed it? Frank had the Longsword Skill, but he was also the highest leveled guard and the most experienced. Merrill. Merrill was a Swordsman. Frank thought he preferred a two-handed sword, but he was sure the Guardsman would be glad of any upgrade.
Frank shoulder-charged the Skeletal Knight in front of him, gaining some space. He kicked the large blade off the wall and called out, “Recruits, blade to Guardsman Merrill!” There was no time to see if his order was obeyed. He ducked a slash and re-engaged.
**********
Matt’s Flame Wave directed at the archers had gotten their attention but still seemed to have little effect. It really only accomplished alerting Kirstin and Dirk that the time had come to attack. They were over the hill and charging before the archers had fully drawn for their volley.
Dirk led the way, an unvoiced war cry on his lips. No need to announce his presence just yet. That last hundred feet seemed so far away, but they hadn’t crossed halfway when the archers turned to fire at them. There was one easy way to tell the bow-wielding Knights’ Levels. If the arrows pierced armor and did significant damage, they were a higher Level than Dirk’s. If his armor and shield held back or lessened the strike, they were lower.
As the arrows left their bows, Dirk was more than a little nervous. The Knights were fast, that was also a sign of a high Level. Dirk was certain he wasn’t going to enjoy meeting those arrows head-on.
Arisa’s Spell, Minor Cyclone, appeared on target. A second-tier Spell’s difficulty lay in its versatility. A skilled Mage could manage a multitude of effects with a single Spell. Arisa was gifted, but the Spell’s tier was only just within her reach. In her hands, Minor Cyclone could either push or pull.
For this casting, Arisa had chosen to pull. Her targets? Not the archers, but their arrows. Her teachers in the Duke’s keep would have applauded her choice and her effort. Items were easier to affect than creatures. Creatures sometimes had nasty immunities to spells, but items rarely did. Those same teachers would have frowned if they had known Arisa had cast her Spell without keeping her target in her line of sight. That was dangerous and likely to fail.
Only it didn’t fail! A vortex of wind generated in the air several feet above Dirk’s head and sucked six arrows off course and into its embrace. For Arisa, an unspecialized Level 5 Basic Mage, not even an apprentice, it was a laudable feat. Dirk’s curiosity was satisfied about the Skeletal Knight’s Levels.
The archers had no time for a second volley. As their first was drawn away, Dirk reached the expressionless Knights. He told himself they were stunned by his new Agility, but honestly, helmets hid a lot, and Skeletons aren’t known for their expressive features.
Dirk’s new Class had come with three new Skills, but his first actions were the old standards, Enraging Aura and Shield Bash. All attention was focused on him as he sent an archer flying, with a strike from his shield. He hit his next target with Crushing Blow, and drove the creature to its knees before following his strike with Break Armor.
The armor didn’t break, but it dented inwards in a very satisfying fashion. Dirk continued to lay about him with his war hammer, as the archers discarded bows and drew their swords.
Kirstin was surprised but thankful that these Knights had only fired off one shot when they charged. Joel could have fired three shots for each of the single shots delivered by the Knights, if he had been the one attacking from such a distance. She didn’t know how many shots Arisa’s Spell could have handled, but she doubted Joel would have been stymied by it.
She started charging Holy Strike as she ran. Its build-up was slow, but the glow that surrounded her sword was encouraging. Dirk sent an Undead Knight flying back and to the side with a Shield Bash, and Kirstin took her chance.
Stepping with the delicacy of a Duelist, Kirsten gripped her new sword with both hands. With a step, a pivot, and a powerful two-handed slash, Kirstin’s Holy Strike landed while the Undead was still in flight. The glowing sword cut through armor and bone as easily as sliding through air. The Knight disappeared. Only its drops reached the ground. Kirstin smiled broadly.
Finally, she was in this fight! She learned something from that first use of Holy Strike. It wasn’t limited to a single opponent. It would last a few seconds, and if she could line it up properly… She almost wished a hoard of Fleshlings would appear so she could cut them down. Okay, maybe not a hoard, but three or four would be nice.
She wished she had realized the proper use of Holy Strike before. If she and Dirk had timed things right, this skirmish could have been ended in a minute. As it was, she didn’t think the Skeletal Knights would line up to let her test it now that the Adventurers had broken their formation.
Dirk was doing his best to keep the Knights from encircling him, and he wasn’t doing too badly. For a man who hadn’t known the meaning of the word dodge a few days ago, he was picking up the essence of it quickly enough. His shield deflected, his feet shuffled, he even swayed now and then. He still got hit, hard, but his new Class offered significant bonuses to armor rating, and he wa
sn’t being seriously injured.
With their attention on Dirk, Kirstin was free to assault a Knight from behind. Most of her strongest Skilled attacks could only be used with her rapier, but one of her favorites, Whirlwind Slash, was compatible with any sword. And it was cheap, which was the primary reason she liked it.
Just a touch of Stamina channeled through her sword and to her feet. Her speed increased dramatically. Seven lightning-fast slashes slammed into a Knight from behind. Leg, arm, shoulder; each slash rent armor and tore bone. It wasn’t enough to put the creature down, but it felt her.
The injured Undead and its closest ally broke away from Dirk to face Kirsten, and she called to him to let them come. Holy Strike was ready. The two Knights moved towards her in unison, swords raised. Holy Strike wasn’t even slowed down as it cut through the swords and armor of her two opponents. The Knights disappeared, dropping a halberd, two pieces of armor, and the usual assortment of miscellaneous loot.
Kirstin was too happy to even notice the drops; she laughed and moved to engage another knight. Only three left! This was going to be easy. Maybe this was a named sword! A powerful Skill and a named sword! That would be amazing, unlikely, but amazing.
The two Adventurers only needed one more use of Holy Strike to deal with the remaining Knights. Dirk, using a combination of Shield Bash, Crushing Blow, and Break Armor ended one. Kirstin dealt with another using her new Skill, and they finished the last together with ordinary attacks.
They looked at the treasure littering the ground, and then at each other before bursting into laughter. This was why they had become Adventurers, the thrill, the glory, and the loot!
Lighting crashed, but they took it as applause for their great deeds. Dirk shouted back at the sky and started tossing the drops into his storage pouch.
Kirstin stretched and looked around for her sheath. Had she left it at the hill? Dropped it while they were running? Or had…
She didn’t find her sheath. She caught sight of something that reminded her of the other side of being an Adventurer. The fear and the possibility of pain and death. Those things went hand in hand with glory and wealth.
The two Skeletal Commanders! How had they forgotten about the two mounted Knights in their glistening steel and gold armor? Those Knights had turned their horses and were looking in their direction now. Had they always held lances? She couldn’t remember.
Dirk was walking towards her. He held a halberd in front of him and was studying it intently. “I know we need to share the drops, but do you think the Corporal will let me keep this? I don’t have the Polearm Skill, but I think my new… What are you looking at?”
His eyes lifted from his new weapon and followed her gaze. “Oh shit!”
They were just sitting there. Staring.
“Do you think they’re waiting for us to run?” Kirstin whispered. Her mouth was dry.
“I don’t think running is an option.” Dirk swallowed. The mounted Knights were between them and the fort. The original plan was to take out the archers and retreat to the hills, staying under cover and, hopefully, going unnoticed. Now that they’d been seen, that plan didn’t seem viable.
“If Allen were here, he’d probably have something snarky to say about letting ourselves get distracted.” Dirk’s hands twisted on the haft of the halberd. He missed the Rogue. He could be a pain, but he kept things light and, at the same time, kept them on their toes.
“Alistern, Lieutenant Alistern,” Kirstin corrected absently. “But yeah, he’d definitely have something to say right now.”
If the Scout Lieutenant showed up right now, she would forgive him for tricking her all these months. If he brought Sergeant Cullen with him, she'd even forgive him for the time he tossed her in the river when she was ten. That was huge; she lost her favorite wooden sword that day.
“Should we try to run?” Dirk wished he’d invested more in Agility. How fast did you have to be to outrun an Undead horse?
“I…” Kirstin cut off.
The Skeletal Commanders were moving, but not forward. They each raised their free arm to chest height and, as they did, figures rose up from the dirt in front of them.
The Adventurers found themselves looking at twenty-four Skeletal warriors in light armor, each armed with spears and carrying shields. The Two Commanders turned their horses and went back to watching the siege of the fort. Apparently, the two humans weren’t worth the effort of riding down.
Kirstin and Dirk started to back away. Six was doable. Six had been easy. Six times four, even if they were Warriors and not Knights, that was very, very hard. They ran and didn’t look back!
They reached the hill and crossed it. Kirstin spotted her sheath, abandoned where she had dropped it, and she stopped to pick it up. Dirk looked back when he noticed her falling behind and saw the Undead troop catching up.
“Are you out of your mind? Move, run! We need to run!” He shouted, his pace slowing.
Kirstin saw the Skeleton squad coming and cursed at herself as she started to run again. What had she been thinking? A sheath could be replaced or gathered later, it was the least important thing in the world. Was she getting distracted again?
After she had found Trent and seen what he had become in such a short amount of time, her mood and focus had improved dramatically. According to the books she’d read, that meant the Summons Loyalty Rating was climbing. They were separated now; was it affecting her?
Maybe. She found value in the boy and was worried about him, but this was probably just an example of pure foolishness on her part. Stress, exhaustion, and fear were all adding up to a lapse in judgment. She forced herself to run faster.
Then she slowed down as she overtook and passed Dirk. They had to stay together. How far was it to the fort? A couple hundred yards down, fifty across? Would the rope still be there? What was the plan for the rope? It seemed unlikely that the Corporal would leave the backdoor open during an attack.
The Skeletal Warriors were fast on their feet, but the Adventurers stayed ahead of them. They ran back along the way they had come. They spotted the fort, so near now, but no rope; someone had pulled it up.
They reached the wall and turned around. The Undead creatures were closing fast. The Adventurers set their feet and brought their weapons into position.
“At least they can’t get behind us,” Dirk huffed. His war hammer was at his side. Something about the halberd spoke to him. It whispered that it was the right weapon for a Heavy Infantryman facing an overwhelming number of opponents.
“This will work out, we'll…” A rope hit Kirstin on the head. From the wall, arrows started flying at the approaching Warriors, Fireballs splashed against enemy shields, and then a Flame Wave enveloped the entire troop, destroying all of them at once. These Skeletal Warriors were not as resistant to fire as the Skeletal Knights.
Kirstin looked up, trying to figure out what was happening. Matt and Arisa were on top of the wall, urging them to climb up the rope. Bailey was also there, armed with Trent’s short bow, scanning the distance for more targets. Kirstin shrieked as she found herself hoisted up and propelled towards the rope. What was Dirk thinking, manhandling her like that? They would have words later, but for now, she stored her sword and climbed the rope.
Dirk stored his weapon too, but he jogged out to the fire-scorched land rather than climbing after her. Those warriors had left drops, and they were in no position to turn down even the most meager of gains.
Chapter 25
Lyra was terrified. She stayed behind the Corporal, and between the two of them, they had taken out two of the attackers, but there were still so many more on the wall and even more waiting at the tops of ladders. Joel and the Guardsmen all had wounds, but they kept fighting. Guardsman Braum had lost his helmet and had a pretty severe cut above his eye.
Yet they all kept fighting. Cursing occasionally, when they had the breath, but never stopping to rest. It was as if they didn’t even feel the cuts or notice the ringing blows against
their armor. Lyra tried to follow their example.
She ignored her fear. She ignored the instinct to go and heal her comrades. She even ignored the stronger impulse to run. Her job was Purification. She was the only one on the wall with the power to dispel the Undead curse. She held her staff in two hands and waited for the Corporal to create an opening.
Frank kicked out and forced his opponent back. Lyra found him amazing! Adventuring with her friends, she had seen many types of warriors, but she’d never seen anyone as relentless as the Corporal. There was no flash to his attacks, no wasted movement. She didn’t even think he used anything but the most basic Skilled attacks.
Chop, Thrust, Disarm, these were the Corporal’s bread and butter. At the start of the fight, she thought he was conserving energy, but she began to suspect that he didn’t have any Advanced Skills. He couldn’t be just a Basic Class, could he?
The Corporal’s kick had pushed the Skeletal Knight back, but it had also brought him in front of the siege ladder. The Knight on the ladder swung a sword at his head. Lyra screamed. Frank merely stepped back, and as the sword passed an inch away from his face, he calmly reached out and caught hold of its owner’s wrist.
A sharp tug and the armored Knight fell forward over the wall. Frank smashed at it with his sword. That poor sword, its blade was chipped and jagged now from the hard use to which it had been subjected.
Lyra was stepping forward, casting Purification on the downed Skeleton without having to be told. Once, then twice, in rapid succession and another Undead perished. The Corporal had gone to one knee, pulling the creature off the ladder. It was the first mistake Lyra remembered seeing him make.
The Knight he had kicked away was coming back. His sword held low and straight out in both hands, the Corporal couldn’t dodge the thrust. Lyra was behind him, but too close. If he dodged, she’d be hit. He couldn’t parry in time; his positioning was all wrong. He couldn’t…