by J. T. Wright
“Kirstin and her bunch are still looking around.” Keller leaned against the battlements as he spoke. “We should send a runner for them; we'll have company soon.”
He had hoped to have advanced from Sentry to Sentinel by now. As a Sentry, he could sense that a large group was approaching and that they were stronger than any they had faced before this, but that was all. With the Skills of a Sentinel, he could sense the exact levels of the Undead that were coming to call.
Hell, if he were a Sentinel, he could probably hold the bridge by himself, laughing and napping as he chose. He could clear this thrice-damned dungeon and go home. Back at the keep, he’d be awarded medals and promoted. Keller wasn’t much interested in those honors for himself, but with them he’d be able to up his asking price when he left the service and secured his cushy dream job. Merchants paid more for Heroes, much more.
“Two Archers and Two Mages, not enough.” Horace was normally not much for talking, which was good since he rarely had anything positive to say. “Not for what’s coming.”
“We don’t know what’s coming yet,” Frank rolled his eyes, “but we’ll make do with what we have.”
“We know its trouble, whatever it is.” Horace cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t have come here, it’s a death trap.”
“Keep your mouth shut, Horace!” Surprisingly, it was Keller who spoke out against his fellow Guardsmen. “We don’t need you scaring the recruits and driving down morale. Things are bad enough without your gloom and doom shit.”
Horace blinked slowly at Keller’s outburst. He wasn’t prone to speaking, but when he spoke, he was a truthful man. He hadn’t been complaining or trying to place blame, just stating a fact.
“Didn’t mean anything by it,” Horace said slowly, “and I know not to mention…”
“We know, Horace,” Corporal Francis said, “but I'm not ready to call this a death trap. It could always be worse.”
Now Keller was quick to scowl at Francis, and Horace’s eyes widened. Could be worse? Might as well dare the Trial to throw the distant lightning right at them. They’d rather that Frank order them to open the gates and charge the enemy naked and unarmed than say those words. Frank winced at the recriminations that came flooding his way.
“Of all the stupid.”
“Not right, not right to.”
“Trials have ears, you know.”
“Might as well blaspheme in a temple.”
Frank stood silent under the wave of criticism. Some things couldn’t be taken back, and even rank couldn’t always protect you. He took it and never said a word, but he was glad when the two Guardsmen broke off at the approach of Kirstin and her friends. He was glad until Joel reached them and used his Far Sight Ability.
“Didn’t find anything worth reporting,” Joel said, “but…” The Scout broke off as his Sight broke through the concealing dust cloud. He frowned and cleared his throat, whatever he’d been about to say was forgotten.
“Those aren’t Undead. Not just Undead.” Joel paused again, uncertain.
“Infernal? They’re troublesome, but we can…” Frank stopped speaking as Joel shook his head.
“Not Infernal. Or, there are Undead and Infernal creatures there but,” Joel didn’t want to believe what his eyes were telling him, “there are others. A lot of others and they look like Orcs!”
Guardsmen, Recruits, and Adventurers all gathered around now. No one wanted to miss a word, though only the Guardsmen understood the significance of what Joel was saying.
“Orcs? That’s not so bad. We’ve faced Goblins in the Trials before.” Kirstin’s mouth closed abruptly as the withering gazes of five Guardsmen pierced her. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Orcs are just one of the Cursed Races, aren’t they? No worse than Goblins. Probably better than Infernal Creatures or Undead, you don’t need enchanted weapons to kill Orcs, do you?”
“No worse than Goblins…” Frank hardly knew where to start. “Yes, Orcs and Goblins are Cursed Races, but that’s all they have in common. Orcs are disciplined, vicious, and tough. No, you don’t need enchantments or magic to put them down, but that doesn’t mean they go down easy. An Orc war band, bolstered by Undead and Infernal, that’s the definition of bad.”
Keller and Horace glared at Frank, obviously blaming the current situation on his careless words. Fortunately, Merrill, who was unaware of how badly the Corporal had messed up, came to the man’s rescue.
“A Trial shouldn’t have three types of beasts.” Merrill squinted, trying to verify Joel’s information for himself. “But, hopefully, if they are Orcs, it’s not a war band. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and it will just be a pack of…”
Now the glares were turned on Merrill, and they came from all sides. Even Recruits and Adventurers knew you didn’t ask for luck. Ever!
Merrill tugged his mustache uncomfortably. He was tired. He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been tricked. A dozen excuses crossed his mind, but he didn’t voice them.
“Joel, I'll need you to operate as an Archer. You take the left and Recruit Bailey will take the right.” Frank drew the group’s attention away from the flushed Merrill. “Bailey, you… why are you holding that short bow? Didn’t I tell you to get a longbow and arrows from Joel three days ago? You don’t have the Mana to use that thing effectively. Get your head out of your ass and get in position! You will be responsible for close targets, Infernal and Orcs only, don’t waste arrows on the Undead.”
The Corporal barked commands and sent everyone to their places. Weapons were drawn and sharpened while the group ate, rested, and waited. They didn’t have to wait long. Far too soon, the dust cloud disappeared, and an army was revealed lined up in neat, organized ranks on the far side of the bridge.
Almost every form of enemy they faced up till now, and more, were represented. Screeching Infernal Beasts, silent Undead Warriors, shuffling Zombies, all were present. They were joined by an array of Orcs, all armed and armored, none less than six feet tall, and all heavily muscled with long sharp tusks protruding from misshapen jaws.
Frank looked for evidence of Spell casters and was relieved not to find any until an Imp brandishing a spear caught his eye. Memories of the attack in the cave, where similar beasts had appeared behind them, came to him, and he was reminded that Infernal Imps could move through stone and earth.
“Shit! Merrill, did you see if the runes were intact?” Frank couldn’t believe he forgot to check himself. A wall without runes to repel magic was not a barrier to be trusted. If the wall’s runes were destroyed, the Imps could enter and open the gate with ease. This army wouldn’t even need siege equipment if the runes were even slightly damaged.
Frank heaved a sigh of relief as Merrill responded, “Walls, gate, and portcullis, all properly enchanted. Powerful runes, too. Even some that strengthen the stone and reduce physical damage. Wish we had those back in…”
Frank’s relief was short-lived. The ranks of the opposing army opened to allow a mounted figure to pass through. The Orc’s armor was dirty and mismatched. Red stains that could have been rust or dried blood covered it. There was no doubt in Frank’s mind that this was the Commander of the force they were facing.
The Orc had to be at least eight feet tall, and the shoddy quality of his armor did not detract from his intimidating appearance. Unlike the common Orcs, the tusks of the Commander swept up not from the inside of his mouth but from his chin. That, and the fact that what could be seen of his skin was grey and black, not green, announced that this was what passed for a Noble amongst the Cursed Race.
But it wasn’t his size or rank that had Frank swallowing nervously. Neither was it the huge war hammer held lazily at the Orc’s side. A hammer so big it almost trailed in the dirt despite the Orc's mounted position. Frank had fought bigger opponents, and he wasn’t afraid of any single Orc.
It was the mount that had Frank clutching his spear with white knuckles. A massive boar, twenty feet at the shoulder, and weighing several tons was what made Fr
ank’s lip curl. With massive, razor-sharp tusks, the beast would be a terror in the open. In a siege…
In a siege, they were worse. The Giant Forest Boar was a rare creature. Frank did not think there was an army in the world that could field a full cavalry unit riding the beasts. Not only were they rare, but they were also hard to train and lacked maneuverability, further limiting their use as war mounts.
But Orcs valued them and went to great lengths to procure the Boars. Fierce and nearly unstoppable once they got up to speed, the Boars were a symbol of power to Orc tribes. For the Orcs who existed as raiders and nomads, the Boar didn’t need to be well- trained, merely unleashed. Pointed in the right direction, the boars will trample anything in their path, including city gates. A walking battering ram, that was what made the Orcs value the Giant Forest Boars.
“Mages,” Frank whispered. Why was he whispering? He cleared his throat and spoke up. “Mages, concentrate on the Boar! Archers, I want the rider dead!”
Arisa swallowed, hearing the Corporal’s command. Her hands tightened around her staff. Made of polished bone, the staff had an affinity towards death magic, but Arisa didn’t know any spells from that element. It could still amplify the spells she did know better than her old staff, but she didn’t think she could do much to hurt the massive creature preparing to charge the gate.
The Boar was coming, slowly at first. Arisa didn’t think a hundred feet would be enough room for the animal to pick up much speed. She was wrong. The whole wall shook as the Boar went from a walk to full speed in seconds. It crossed the bridge and slammed into the gate before she even had time to decide what Spell to cast!
Hands trembling, her staff shook as she watched the Boar slowly back up. Beside her, Joel launched arrow after arrow at the Orc rider. The only saving grace in this situation was the Boar’s lack of Agility. Its speed was derived from its strength, but turning around completely took too much time. Confined to the bridge, it could only walk backward before charging, and it backed up at a snail’s pace.
“Matt will handle damage!” Joel shouted, nocking another arrow. “You’ll be more helpful if you can affect the Boar’s movement or the rider’s control of the beast!”
Arisa expected Matt to use his strongest Spell, Flame Wave, so she was astounded when he cast Flame Wall instead. Flames covered nearly the whole length of the bridge, but Flame Wall was more of a deterrent than a killing Spell. It looked impressive with its leaping and roaring flames, but it was meant to keep enemies back while causing only minor damage. With Matt’s talents and Level, she didn’t see the point!
But as the Boar backed up, and Matt continued to cast Spell after Spell down on it, a spark came to life in Arisa’s head, and she finally saw the genius behind the move. He had cast the Spell the length of the bridge. While it dealt little damage, merely singeing the Boar’s hair and barely harming its skin, the animal was too large to avoid the flames. So, although the damage was minor, it was constant, and it affected the rider’s control.
As Arisa watched the Orc struggle to keep its mount moving forward, roaring as his own skin was being burned, Arisa felt her face reddening as if she was the one standing in the fire. Somewhere along the line, she had started to look down on Matt. She had considered him a talented Fire Elementalist but had thought his spells lacked punch and diversity. She thought she was better than the Mage Adventurer, or she would be with a little time and practice.
But now, with one Spell, Matt controlled the field. And he did it all while Arisa was still shaking, unable to decide how she could help. Seeing Matt’s actions, Arisa’s fingers loosened on her staff, and her resolve strengthened.
Her specialty was with Wind and Water Elements. Closing her eyes, she prepared the Spell, Rushing Breeze. Flame Wall and Rushing Breeze were popular tier 1 Spells because they gained in strength as they leveled. Unlike many Spells which capped at Level 10, these two evolved to become higher tiered Spells as the caster mastered them.
These spells were especially popular with Mages, who had affinities with both Wind and Fire because they complimented each other. You could push a foe back with Rushing Breeze and then hold them there with Flame Wall. This was only useful against low leveled opponents, but fortunately, there was a second way to use these spells together. Rushing Breeze enhanced flame spells, by providing fuel for the fire, so to speak.
Arisa’s eyes opened, and she extended her arm, pointing her staff to direct the Spell as she muttered the trigger. Matt's Flame Wall doubled in intensity as air was forced along its length. This wasn’t much, but where the fire had once only licked at the feet and legs of the mount and its rider, now the flames had grown and were lashing at their bodies and faces.
Joel murmured, “Good job,” as he continued to send arrow after arrow. He couldn’t see the evil grin that twisted the lips of the girl who had suddenly discovered a whole new approach to her chosen craft, but the corner of his eye caught the straightening of her posture.
Joel wished the two Mages could also find a way to hold the Boar in place. The flames were causing it to thrash and sway erratically, and its rider kicked and bashed at the animal attempting to control it. This was fine, but it made Joel’s job a lot harder.
Most of his arrows were hitting home, but it was difficult to pick your shots on a target that moved so erratically. Even under the influence of Steady Aim, Joel’s shots bounced off armor more than they found flesh. The armor that was so flimsy looking was obviously bolstered by the Orc’s ridiculously high Constitution. That characteristic, which increased the strength of a warrior and his equipment, meant those arrows hardly penetrated bare skin. Joel was hurting the Orc, but he was a long way from killing him.
If Joel was frustrated, Bailey was miserable. The Level 12 Archer was using Joel’s old bow, and his arms ached from drawing the heavy bow. Bailey, who never had specialized and had only the most basic of Archery Skills, couldn’t hit the Orc at all and could only watch as his arrows bounced off the thick hide of the Giant Boar. He didn’t think the animal even knew it was being hit.
Bailey saw that Joel’s arrows were injuring the Orc and couldn’t help but grimace. He knew that his Archer Level was higher than Joel’s, but with Joel’s mixed Classes and greater amount of practical experience, the Scout was clearly the better marksman. This pricked at the proud Recruit’s sensibilities as Marksman was the first Specialization Bailey hoped to earn someday, but he wouldn’t reach that goal until his Archery Skill was Level 15.
Bailey gritted his teeth. It was the Marksman Specialization that he aimed for as he ignored the ache in his arms and shoulders and continued to draw his bow. He kept shooting at the Orc rider, but every third shot went flying into the ranks of the beasts waiting for the gate to be penetrated.
The shouting and jeering of the attacking army increased, but now the occasional outraged scream could be heard, as arrows found their way to Imps and other Infernal Beasts. Bailey’s arrows caused damage that was little better than pinpricks; the army was filled with creatures stronger than the Archer, but it was something. When Bailey fired in their direction, even if his intended target dodged, he would hit some creature in the mass. Each successful hit fed his Archery Skill and was another step towards the day when he could actually do real damage.
The Boar had reached it’s starting position again, and Matt hurriedly recast Flame Wall so that it would be forced to charge through the fire to attack the gate. The Boar was totally burned at this point, and in a normal fight outside of a Trial, the animal would be violently resisting its rider. Outside of a Trial, the beast probably would have fled by now, even if it hadn’t suffered life-threatening damage.
But this was a Trial, and the Boar did charge. Flame Wall’s intensity increased as Arisa’s Spell enhanced it. Seeing the effect, Matt wished he could cast Rushing Breeze as casually as the younger Mage could, but he'd known there would be drawbacks when he chose to become a Fire Elementalist. He accepted that.
The wall trembled under
his feet as the Boar thundered across the bridge, slamming against the wall’s portcullis. The force of the Boar’s charge was unbelievable, but Matt didn’t let that break his concentration. He threw Flame Wave down on the beast and pretended he didn’t notice that the portcullis looked bent.
The Boar squealed as its back was scorched by the fire from above. The Orc rider’s indignant screams were also heard, and Matt made a rude gesture with one hand as the Orc bared its teeth in his direction. He followed up his gesture with a charged Fire Ball and felt a warm glow of satisfaction as the Orc’s white vacant eyes, eyes which signified the Cursed Awakened was in service to a Trial, widened. Dropping the reins, the Orc leaped backward from his seat to perch on his mount’s haunches. The Fire Ball splashed over the vacated saddle, doing little apparent harm.
The Orc, standing ten feet back from where the Fire Ball had struck, was still on his mount. The Orc Captain raised its war hammer to wave it threateningly in Matt’s direction, and Matt whistled appreciatively at the rider’s stupidity. Matt cast another Fire Ball, this one at the Boar’s head, and then paused to enjoy the show.
The Boar’s tusks had done real damage to the portcullis and the gate this time. Those protruding bones had punctured the thick but aged wood, deep enough to hold the Boar in place. Riderless now, the Boar stood, bellowing and squealing in rage, continuing to push forward ineffectually.
Joel and Matt were brothers, and they didn’t need to be standing next to each other to communicate a plan they had jokingly discussed with each other in the past. They never thought they’d ever actually be able to put it into action. Two Arrows, fired in rapid succession, pierced the plate-sized eyes of the stationary Boar, catching fire as Matt’s Fire Ball also found its mark.