by J. T. Wright
The Giant Forest Boar was a Trial Beast, but it was still an animal. Its instincts to run were suppressed, its aggression increased, but it still needed a rider to guide it in battle. That rider, standing far away from his saddle, could only watch as his mount was blinded and then scorched. The Orc Captain’s lips pulled back to reveal sharpened teeth as his Boar jerked back, freeing its tusks, and began to trample the ground around it in a panic.
The Orc rider lunged forward to get to the reins but lost his footing as the beast rampaged beneath him. He fell and managed to grab the back of his saddle, but he was soon shaken loose by the Boar’s twisting and stomping efforts. Losing his grip, he began to slide off his mount. The rider tried to control his dismount by pushing himself away, kicking frantically to create more distance, but perhaps he kicked too hard.
Blind and distraught, the Boar likened the blows to an attack and rolled in the direction of its rider. The Orc hit the ground and managed to leap backwards to avoid being crushed, but he was still struck on the side by the Boar’s flailing legs and sent flying towards the edge of the bridge, where he collided with the protective stone barrier with a sickening crunch.
Dirk winced at the sound. It wasn’t that he felt sorry for the Orc. After all, the rider was trying to kill him and his friends. But Dirk had been on the receiving end of a similar blow before, and he could guess what the Orc was feeling. It was probably even worse for the rider. The horses that had hit Dirk had been armored and heavy, but they hadn’t carried half the weight of the Boar.
When the Orc rider picked himself up without showing any sign of discomfort, Dirk’s eyebrows weren’t the only ones furrowing. When Joel had blinded the Boar, Corporal Francis had been stunned, but the Orc’s unusual Constitution cleared up a lot of his confusion. Joel had attacked the Boar using a Piercing Shot Skill, and the defenders thought the Boar’s injury was reasonable. Frank knew better.
No matter how talented an Archer Joel was, he simply didn’t have the strength to wound the massive Boar. Even with a Skilled shot to an area that was generally considered to be weak, the Boar’s higher Level and Constitution should have allowed the beast to shrug off the attack. Watching the animal squeal and thrash as the Orc lazily retrieved his war hammer, a thought formed in Frank’s head.
He looked to the far side of the bridge where two hundred enemy combatants waited for the gate to fall. The Orcs and Imps were cheering, roaring with enthusiasm, and waving their weapons. They didn’t seem the least bit concerned that their mobile battering ram was seriously injured.
Frank’s suspicion was confirmed as the Orc rider hefted his own weapon. The hammer, already oversized and unwieldy, grew until it dwarfed the eight-foot frame of its wielder. Dismounting, the Orc charged and swung the enormous weapon at the gate. Arrows and spells fell on the Orc, but he paid no mind as he attacked. The weapons that had blinded his mount were unable to affect this rider. The hammer came down again, and the wall trembled from the blows.
“Siege Breaker!” Frank exhaled heavily. That explained it, and a sliver of hope bloomed in the Corporal’s chest.
The Boar’s charge and retreat had been clumsy as if its rider couldn’t control the beast. A true Orc Boar Rider shared Attributes with his mount. Like all mounted Classes, the two were connected, strengthening one another, and they were nearly impossible to separate.
But Siege Breakers were another animal completely. They drew strength from their subordinates, bolstering themselves while weakening those they commanded. Able to fight alone against incredible odds, Siege Breakers could be troublesome opponents.
“Shift fire to attack the main force!” The wall shook again under the Orc’s hammer. Frank didn’t even feel it or notice the strange looks he was getting from his men after he delivered the odd command. They didn’t understand; the main force wasn’t a threat at this point, not until the gate was destroyed.
The Corporal had no time for explanations. Instead, he reached into his storage pouch. Most of the loot they had acquired but couldn’t use immediately had been stored in this pouch. The magic device was nearly full at this point, and it contained a variety of weapons and armor, as well as coins and Beast Cores.
He pulled a long heavy spear from among its contents. The weapon was six feet overall with a two-foot blade, made entirely of metal. From that and the unique way it seemed to shine, Frank knew the spear was made of silver-steel. Unfortunately, that was all he knew about the spear since Arisa’s Appraisal Skill wasn’t developed enough to read the weapon.
Frank had been waiting for an opportunity to use this spear. It was most likely enchanted and the best weapon they’d stumbled across; it was a shame not to use it. As he grunted under the weight of the spear, Frank was reminded of why it had been relegated to the storage pouch. It weighed a ton, and even with his Level, Frank couldn’t use it easily. For what he had in mind, however, Frank was sure the beautiful weapon would serve perfectly.
He jumped to the top of the battlements and looked down. The Orc was preparing to strike again, and the Boar was still screaming and thrashing about. It was time to put the beast out of its misery.
Holding the spear like a javelin, the Corporal wasted no time. Drawing his arm back, he threw the weapon downwards. Propelled by its weight and the Skill Mortal Blow, the spear descended. The Orc paused as it sensed something was wrong. The Siege Breaker looked up in time to see Frank throw but not in time to do anything about it.
The Corporal’s target wasn’t the Orc, but the Boar. It didn’t make much sense to the others, as the animal was essentially out of the fight, but Frank laughed out loud as two feet of finely crafted metal buried itself in the Boar’s head. The beast collapsed without so much as a whimper.
The Orc almost dropped his hammer as his mount died. It wasn’t shock or grief that caused the Siege Breaker to falter. The Orc was only able to wield its weapon by drawing on the Boar’s natural strength. He visibly shrank as the primary source of his unnatural power was stolen.
Seeing the Orc’s sudden weakness, Joel and Matt, who had been launching ineffective attacks against the distant troops, redirected their fire towards the Siege Breaker. An arrow slammed into the Orc’s shoulder, knocking it back, and a second later, a Fire Ball crashed into the warrior’s chest, drawing a scream from the enraged Orc. Their attacks finally drew blood.
Thinking the Commander would soon be finished, the two brothers prepared another volley. But spells and arrows were soon forgotten. Unbelievably the Orc’s size increased again; the Siege Breaker grew until he was taller than his previous eight feet.
The defenders’ brief hope was dashed, and faces all along the wall fell. The enemy was stronger than before. The Orc ripped the arrow from his shoulder, and they could only watch as his wounds and burns healed at a rapid pace.
Only Frank, still standing on the battlements with his hands on his hips and a sneer on his face remained calm. “Target the troops! That freak is done for!” He laughed derisively as he said this. Joel thought the Corporal had snapped.
But after weeks of following orders, even the Adventurers were used to doing things they didn’t understand. Archers and the Mages followed the command. Fire struck the ranks of Undead, and the creatures withered and fell. Arrows that had bounced off armor previously burst through raised shields to slay indiscriminately.
Only four members of the group could attack at range, so the group had prepared themselves for a drawn-out battle. Jaws dropped faster than the enemy at the unexpected results of those raged attacks. It hadn’t been more than a minute ago when the now devastating fire had hardly been able to scratch the hundred or so enemy troops.
Now Infernal Beasts and Undead were slaughtered in batches by spells, and Orcs fell transfixed by arrows. The Orc Siege Breaker watched with a clenched jaw as his army fell. When he lost his Boar, he had drawn power from the rest of his minions. He’d taken the Strength and Constitution he needed to crush the wall from them, and that action had left the army vulne
rable.
Milky white eyes looked up at the Corporal and were met with a mocking gaze. It was too late to return what the Orc had taken, and it was useless to do so anyway. Without a source of power, the Siege Breaker could never breach the gate. If the gate stood, the enemy was trapped outside.
The army’s defeat affected its Commander in a most extraordinary way. As each warrior fell, the Siege Breaker deflated. Inches fell from his height and girth, and when the last of his troops were slain, the once noble Orc was even smaller than an Infernal Imp. His mismatched armor offered him no protection in his weakened state. It even hindered him. Unable to bear its weight, the Orc could only kneel on the ground as arrow and Spell claimed his life.
Frank watched the Siege Breaker fall and disappear from his place on the battlements. In a real war, Leaching Classes like the Siege Breaker would never bring the source of their strength within range of an enemy’s attacks. The accepted way of dealing with these types was to wear them down slowly. A high-level Leach Class was a nightmare to deal with in war.
Frank shuddered, despite his elation at their victory. If the Siege Breaker had been a thinking being instead of a Trial Beast and brought down the gate before they realized his weakness, he and all his men would likely be dead by now. Even in a Trial, they’d been lucky. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to think about, and so the Corporal didn’t. He jumped down and started calling out orders.
“Merrill, Keller, find me a way out of this pit! If the gate won’t open, we'll need ropes. We need to be gone before the next wave arrives.”
As his men hurried to obey, Frank turned to look back across the bridge and down the canyon. He half expected to see another troop of Orcs approaching. This Trial wasn’t kind, and that last challenge had been a little too easy. After a moment, Frank wished he could see an enemy marching in the distance. What he did see was far worse.
A bronze plaque hung at eye level on the wall. Its lettering was ornate, and the words written on it were flowery, but their meaning was clear. These were the rules for this section of the Trial. Rules that had to be followed.
Frank choked out a bitter laugh at reading the message. For weeks he’d gone through loot and drops looking for the slightest clue as to what the Trial expected of them. Trent had said two months surviving or defeat the guardian. Frank wondered how he’d known that. There must have been a plaque like this one back at the entry Safe Zone.
The last clue they had found was a map, also discovered by Trent. Frank wished the boy was here now. Trent was lucky, navigating the Trial like a fish in a stream. Without him Frank and his group had been floundering. They could really use a bit of luck right about now.
Keller came up behind Frank and paused. The Corporal was chuckling, but he had a sour expression twisting his lips. Keller thought he’d come to deliver good news, but seeing Frank’s face, he wasn’t sure he wanted to say a word.
“Gate and Portcullis are in perfect repair, Corporal,” Keller said at last. “Looks like they reset after the fight. We can head out anytime you…”
Frank shook his head, causing Keller to fall silent. “We’re not going anywhere. Tell everyone to gather the drops and have Arisa Identify them. Then secure the gate, and we'll need to find some way to reinforce it, if possible. Everyone should see to their weapons and get some rest. We only have eight hours.”
Keller started to argue. They didn’t have the men or resources to hold this fortress. Even with the narrow approach, it was foolish to try and make a stand here. They should run while they had the chance.
Frank reached out and tapped the plaque before Keller could really get up to speed. It took Keller a few minutes to read and decipher what was printed there. When he finally did, he unleashed a series of curses that would have had Tersa’s ears twitching as she tried to memorize them.
This fortress is The Last Stand.
Once occupied, it must be held.
No defender can go more than 100 steps beyond the far end of the bridge. Doing so will immediately summon the next wave of Trial Beasts.
Staying within the 100 steps, the next wave will arrive eight hours after the last beast from the previous wave fell.
Fortifications will be restored in the event the defenders defeat the latest challenge.
The plaque didn’t say that the next wave would be harder. It didn’t have to. The enemy would get stronger as their own strength waned.
From Keller’s point of view, that wasn’t much hope at all. The Sentry’s shoulders slumped once he read the terms the Trial had set. The words were offered in such a way as to make defenders think they had a chance, but as an experienced Guardsman, Keller knew the truth. They didn’t even have enough bows or men to fire them, much less catapults, ballista, or other tools of siege warfare.
“Gather the drops and get everyone back on the wall,” Frank ordered wearily. “Eight hours is going to pass quickly.”
Chapter 35
“Bloody Flaming Piss,” Tersa whispered.
Orion had summoned a Spirit of Air to form a platform that lifted the trio high into the air. The platform was solid but invisible, and Tersa had initially been unnerved by the feeling that she could fall at any moment. Having nothing but air beneath her feet was unsettling, but her discomfort was forgotten when she spied the army besieging the distant fortress.
Orion winced at her words. “Tersa, traditionally the curse is Blood and Ashes. Some might say Blood and Piss. No one says, Bloody Flaming Piss.”
Tersa’s eyes jerked around. She sucked in her cheeks and regarded Orion with a tilted head. “I said it, so someone must. What’s your point?”
“Leave it,” Trent said. His eyes were still on the army, but his feet stamped at the platform of air. It was only good for going up, it couldn’t be used as transportation, not at Orion’s Level, but Trent still found this Spell, unique to Spirit Summoner’s, fascinating.
“Are you sure we can’t float in on this Air Spirit?” the boy asked.
“No, my contract with the Spirit is still developing, it will be weeks before I can communicate with it enough to ask it to transport us,” Orion said. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t ask it to fly us over a hostile force. We'd just be targets.”
“Then we have to find another way in,” Trent said. He removed his cowl and ran a hand through his hair. Days of tracking and they were within sight of their goal, only to run into this obstruction.
“We shouldn’t even attempt an entry.” Orion’s voice was neutral, calm, but he held himself stiff. “If your friends can survive that…”
Trent was certain the group he had been Tracking was holed up in the fortress, but Orion didn’t think that mattered anymore. Trent and Tersa’s friends would have to stand alone, they could not reinforce them.
“Maybe you’re afraid, but me and Trent…” Tersa’s eager declaration ended as Orion’s hand reached out.
The force his fingers exerted on Tersa’s shoulder caused the girl to gasp. She would have jerked away, but since she didn’t know where the edge of the platform was, she settled for attempting to pry Orion’s fingers away instead. It was a futile attempt, but fortunately, Orion eased the pressure on his own.
“Tersa, there are things about Al’rashian culture that you should know. Things you need to know. It is very likely you will interact with some of my people in the future, and we can be volatile. Not always, but some things set us off.
“There are Orcs in that army. Al’rashians hate the Undead, we loathe the Infernal, but we absolutely despise Orcs. An Al’rashian Warrior will crawl naked across burning coals and broken glass for the chance to kill an Orc. Even a Trial born Orc. I do not suggest we run for my sake but for yours.”
His grip tightened again, and silver eyes turned downwards to pierce Tersa. “I consider you a sister and friend. I tell you this, so you know, the easiest way to provoke an Al’rashian is to suggest they fear an Orc.”
Trent cleared his throat. “There has to be a way.”
> “I see two hundred troops, at least two hundred. The path to the fortress is narrow and open. There is nowhere to hide.” Orion took a deep breath as he spelled out what they were facing. “Do you see those two large mounds on either side of the Orcs?”
With Far Sight, it was easy for Trent to make out what Orion was talking about. The mounds weren’t hard to see. They weren’t exactly the color of dirt, more ashen, with tufts of green here and there. The distance was too great for Trent to make out all the details, but he would swear the mounds moved from time to time.
When Trent nodded, Orion continued, “Those are Hill Trolls. They are creatures of the plains, and their name comes from the fact that they are often confused with hills at a distance. A fully-grown Hill Troll stands nearly fifty feet tall. Orcs like to capture them and train them as war beasts. A single Level 5 Hill Troll is enough to cause problems for that fortress by itself. Two Hill Trolls, backed by an army of Orcs? That wall will be nothing to them.”
“Bah.” Tersa spit over the edge of the platform. Or at least she tried too. Her spittle landed a few feet away and hung suspended in the air. Tersa frowned as she edged her foot closer to the small puddle, testing to see if the platform really extended that far.
“Corporal Francis will deal with those Trolls by himself. He’s way above Level 5. We should get closer and wait for a chance to help.”
Orion stared helplessly at Tersa as she tapped her foot and shuffled around. This wasn’t the time to explain the difference in Levels between humans and giant beasts. At Level 5, a Hill Troll would have a minimum of around 100 Strength, with even more Constitution. It was generally accepted that if you wanted to solo-kill a Hill Troll, you needed ten Levels in an Advanced Class for every single Level of the Troll, and you’d better have highly trained Skills. Orion also didn’t say that he had used Level 5 only as an example. At this distance, there was no telling what Level those Trolls were.