Ethria- the Pioneer

by Aaron Holloway

  “This is the map we used a few days ago when we were laying out the plans for Winters Quarters.” I ran my hand along the mountain range that was bisected by the river and found what I was looking for.

  “Where we are now is suppose to be flat and clear, it is on the map. Just more grassland and rolling hills. The gravel was supposed to be in a quarry mine not far from here, not in the middle of nowhere, covering several hilltops and small valleys in a nearly even ring around the necromancers for...” My voice trailed off as I looked back down at my discovery, back at the map, and then back at Ailsa, coming to a realization.

  “You know, I've been thinking about that. We really should change the name.”

  “What?” I asked looking at Ailsa confused.

  “Winters Quarters? It sounds so dreary and sad, particularly when you say it. It has all this sad meaning for you, we should change the name to something happier!” She said cheerfully. I shook my head.

  “Fine, whatever. None of that matters right now.”

  “What is the meaning of demeaning me in front of my troops!” Knight Commander Traser said, standing over me.

  “Woh! When did you get here!” I said clutching my chest as my heart tried to leap out of it.

  “You are far too easily frightened for one in this profession wizard.” The young knight chided, his visage calming, amusement overtaking his anger.

  “I’m not afraid, you just startled me, okay! What? No, that's not important.” I waved both conversations and their tangents away with my hands as I struggled to refocus on what was important. “Look!” I said angrily and pointed at the half-exposed skeleton in the pit I had made.

  “Well, that is, disturbing. But what of it? I am sure there are dead bodies found in all sorts of unlikely places in the world.” He said with confidence that I knew he didn't feel. He was unsettled, it was written, clear as day on his face. I raised my hand and blasted a few more holes, and revealed a few more skeletons, some of them with bits of flesh still on them. “Okay, I'm listening.”

  “The elves told me about a quarry pit near the ruins when we were planning the layout of the temporary settlement for the Pervolins across from Laketown. They told me that it was filled with gravel. I had planned on visiting it before all of this” I gestured to the dead bodies, the soldiers behind me, and Tol’geth who was walking towards us, probably to investigate why I was blowing holes in the ground, again.

  “From their description, it sounded like a single location filled with gravel, not a thin, strangely placed wasteland. And look” I pointed at the map and the knight bent down to see it. “There’s no mark or note of this gravely area. There is a listing for the mine, and the ruins, and even this forest and the hills we have been passing over, but not this.” I lifted a handful of gravel and let it fall through my fingers for emphasis.

  “So, what? You think this is some kind of trap?” I blasted another two holes in the ground further away, this time a large warg skeleton went flying into the air and landed a few feet away from where we were crouched. “Right. Trap.”

  “She probably is going to try and raise the skeletons once we get between the gravel pit and the forest,” Ailsa said still bundling herself in the satchel.

  “We would have limited options then. We would either be stuck traveling through the forest in a choked off fighting retreat or fighting a pitched battle with our backs turned towards the forest and whatever she has hidden there.” Commander Traser surmised. “Hmmm. Any thoughts of what we should do?” He asked the group.

  I shrugged. Tol’geth grunted a no, and Ailsa shook her head. “Perhaps, speak with your uncle, and the sun-priest that came with us? They might know something about how to fight the undead, more than we do at least. I just burn them, something that might not be as effective against non-fleshy creatures.”

  “I’ll send runners to gather the others. We need to put our heads together. In the meantime, act casual. Like we haven't discovered anything. Like this is just an extended rest, and all you found are mere curiosities rather than portents of our imminent doom.” We all nodded our acceptance and he left.

  “Well, he's a cheery one. Portents of eminent doom alright. If the entire field is hiding bodies and skeletons? We’ll be facing hundreds when they rise, possibly close to a thousand.”

  “Now who's the gloomy one?” Ailsa teased.

  ----

  When the council convened, it was decided that we would press on, much to my consternation. Though the really galling thing was, I didn’t have anything better we could have done. They did take the step suggested by Lord Traser, the old one, not the young one, to move the archers into the center with the calvary, and have them equip short sword and buckler. That split the infantry in half but protected our most vulnerable while equipping them the best they could for the fight to come.

  The priest was of little help. He admitted to knowing more about the undead then most of us, but also admitted that he didn’t have the magical skill either gifted by his God or personally, to undo the spells that reanimated them. Though, he could prevent the still living from being turned into undead. So at least we wouldn’t have to fight our own fallen in battle. When I asked if he could prevent the dead from rising, he explained the problem.

  “Of course I can, but only one at a time, with a special funeral rite that takes several minutes. It honestly wouldn’t be that helpful in this situation. If I had a consecrated altar in a chapel or even a simple shrine, I could turn this place into a graveyard and prevent the bones from rising. But unless someone is carrying either of those under their armor, it is not possible. May the God of Sun and Light preserve us.” He bowed his head in silent prayer and cast the little protection he could over us.

  The spell he cast was wide-ranging and covered everyone in the caravan. It was meant to last for three days. It was a Greater Blessing from both the Sun and River god and goddess, working in harmony.

  “Mixing divine magic is a tricky business” Ailsa explained as I walked back to the front of the column. “But it can be done if the person has the right skills, or the Gods involved are personally well acquainted enough not to interfere with one another. Members of the same pantheon are one example. They know each other, and their powers derive from similar enough places, say the same worshipers, that they can mix without causing too much interference. If that happens, the blessings usually just fizzle out.”

  For my part, I did cast and stored more spells in that short time between when we started marching again, to when we got past the gravel to the small patch of grass just in front of the forest, then I had ever cast or stored before. A few times I caught my head swimming with stray thoughts of power, or my emotions beginning to riot away from my control. As I was conscious of what I was doing, and wasn’t being distracted by the threat of imminent death, Ailsa was able to guide me through controlling those negative effects.

  I had a few ideas of things that might help, and a few spells I had yet to even test that might prove useful on this larger scale. I had been hesitant to try them so close to Lo’sar forest, or with so much potential collateral damage in terms of the lives and property of the people of Laketown.

  But here? In a large scale battle, with nothing but rock and enemies to burn, and a forest I was planning on lighting on fire on my way out of those ruins anyway? Hell, I could cut loose. Though, knowing the mana drain would potentially kill me there were some spells I was reluctant to even try yet. The pyromancer when he had written that book, had been exceedingly powerful, with a vast arsenal of spells that I had only begun to scratch the surface of. Though knowledge of them implanted in my memories by the Pyromancy Magic Book where easily summoned to mind at need.

  I stopped there, at the edge of the large gravel pit and the forest, and watched as our small army marched past. When the last man, the Lord of Laketown himself, crossed that barrier between gravel and hard earth, it happened.

  A black portal opened in the swiftly darkening sky above the pit, ecl
ipsing the sun momentarily, as hundreds of black spells poured out. They started at the now far end of the pit. As the black orbs landed and disappeared beneath the gravel, animated skeletons of various creatures rose from where they were buried. The bulk of the skeletons were clearly human, but a few elven, dwarven, and a goodly deal of goblin bones clacked to life in a wave of undeath that washed towards us.

  In the middle distance, about halfway through the gravel laden ground before me, a massive skeleton, easily twice the size of the trees behind me, pulled itself from the earth. Its bones were five times thicker than any man's, despite looking humanoid, or at least bipedal. It had two massive arms nearly as long as tree trunks that it dragged along the ground as it took its first steps.

  When the ground at my feet started to animate, I let loose a jet of flame from my staff and backed up. The first skeleton that emerged from the ground ignored my spell, and after a few seconds its bones grew white-hot. As it stood tall and began brandishing its bone carved sword at me, it and the one behind it, a gnome or halfling, or worse, shattered from the heat.

  “You have killed Recently Raised Skeleton, Lv 3. x2, ”

  “Line! Form a line!” Commander Traser yelled from the other side of the column.

  “Archers! Knock! Loose!” I heard another voice command. A sporadic volley shot from behind the even more erratic line that was starting to take shape behind me. The arrows arched through the air and when they landed, they did virtually nothing against the skeleton horde.

  My staff still spouting flame, I turned it on several other nearby undead and watched as their bones shattered under the heat. Before the first jet of flame from my ever-burning staff was extinguished I destroyed nearly half a dozen of the creatures.

  “Push Forward The Line!” I heard the command and looked behind me as the once hastily construed, now professional and uniform looking line pushed past me, and engaged the undead horde. It wasn’t a charge really, just them stepping past me and into combat.

  I thought we’d have a little more time to get into position. I hope our flank is still guarded . I thought as I summoned my mana and began to compress it into a shape I had never used before. By the time I finished putting the mana into the right pattern, the matrix felt more than looked like an hourglass. The spell I was attempting had a very strange name, and the memory from the book about its origins was mirky, but the shape was deeply important for the spell's success.

  I pulled more mana from my pool and shoved it into the construct, compressing it with every ounce of my will. Go big or go home right?!

  I knew this spell could be done in a fraction of the time I was taking, but I also knew that the first time you cast a spell it was more likely to act far differently than you intended due to the ‘confused’ skill penalty. So, I took my time ensuring I understood every aspect of the spells function, structure, and shape. As I did the world around me grew more and more red. Eventually, when I thought my vision couldn’t get any more saturated, the world grew deeper in heugh, turning nearly crimson in color.

  The spell matrix and my hands were still clear to me, but the outside world, the fighting, and sources of the sounds of steel on bone, and the cries of wounded men that surrounded me were no longer visible. I pushed more, and more mana into the thing, and then set it spinning in my palm, shaping it with my fingers even as a carpenter might shape wood with a lathe. With each new infusion of mana, the world grew a darker and deeper shade of red.

  After nearly three minutes of work, with sweat running down my back in rivulets, I lifted the mana construct up to the thick red and black fog that surrounded me, and it absorbed it all in a rush. The world returned, and I saw the line of men-at-arms had held admirably, but they were no match for the giant hulking construct that was about the smash into their line.

  The archers aided by the elven rangers had held the thing off by pelting it with arrows, and turning the construct on its fellows as it tried to figure out what was hurting it. As I observed the scene I saw several arrows infused with light, either from abilities that were being used or from spells cast to enhance their damage dealing potential, smash into the creature. These each sent tiny microfractures deep into its bones with great force but doing little more than superficial damage to the creature.

  As the latest volley landed home the construct planted its giant feet, shaking the ground and crushing several of its fellow undead, and began charging towards our line. A second volley, a little more ragged than the last was sent towards it from the archers, but the undead construct didn’t show any signs of stopping or being distracted this time. It had figured out where the stinging was coming from, and it was out for blood.

  I dropped my eyes to the construct in my hands again, and shouted “Everyone, DUCK!” Half of the men around me complied, the other half were still in the midst of a swing, or a block with their shields. I waited another heartbeat, hesitating, not knowing exactly how powerful this spell would be, or in how much danger they or I would be in. Then, with a flex of my will, the hourglass looking construct shot out of my hand with such force of shotgun recoil and speed of an arrow. I winced in pain and rubbed my fingers, as the spell slammed into the bone constructs chest, and ignited.

  “Congratulations! You have learned the new spell “Time Lords Inferno.” This is a spell of Fire magic, that requires at least one rank in enchanting to be able to cast. This spell creates a massive explosion of heat and fire, that will on occasion collapse in on itself in an implosion dealing additional damage. There is also the unlikely possibility, that further effects will be manifested. Please see spell entry in your Spell Sheet for additional details.”

  The swirling mana in the bottom portion of the hourglass contained the essence of fire itself, or as near to the thing as I could produce. The top portion contained pure fuel in the form of condensed mana that I had given a gaseous form. As the two smashed together, the compressed gas exploded out words with the force of a hurricane in every direction. The fire expanded following the gas wherever it went, quick on its heels. The conflagration at its most potent, near its center consumed the bones of the giant construct in milliseconds. The smaller skeletal undead at the beast's feet shattered apart from the shock and heatwave before the fire could actually touch them.

  Fifteen feet out from the blast, the smaller skeletons survived a few seconds in the inferno, before cracking or shattering to pieces. Another fifteen feet from that line, the larger more powerful skeletons were simply knocked prone, while the smaller weaker ones were quickly consumed as fuel for the spell.

  At the forty-five feet mark, the men in the front lines were briefly encased in flames. Most survived with only mild burns, though some who had not worn gambesons to protect their skin from direct contact with their armor, suffered far worse. Nearly all of the men affected were hairless and smoking when the fire receded. The still standing skeletons who had no shields to hide behind were all knocked prone or set alight and quickly fell prey to the flickering flames left behind.

  At a certain point, the spell explosion stopped expanding. It was a moment of true peace, the apex of the spells expansion. Then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, the last, and smallest of the spheres in the hourglass finally cracked. It was filled with an even denser form of mana-fuel, and now that the fire had consumed everything in its path including the oxygen, and had no more mana to sustain its journey through the air, the fire collapsed in on itself around the tiny ball of extremely dense magic. Air rushed past us, and those few skeletons along the path that had not been killed broke apart in the gale-force winds.

  A few of our own men got taken along as well, most were saved by quick-witted and reflexed squadmates, who grabbed them before they went too far. But one man I saw, a particularly small elf ranger, got sucked into the center of the vortex. We never found his body, but I was sure it was consumed by the spell.

  The rush of wind finished with a massive clap of thunder as the vacuum the spell had created collapsed in a rush of pu
rely natural wind. At the center of it, sat a burning bright star. It would die off over the next few hours, turn to dust a few hours after that, but until then it would burn bright and happily a few feet over the battlefield.

  “You created another Gods damned sun!” I heard Commander Traser yell at me from the other side of the stunned and silent battle line. I looked over and found him sitting atop his horse looking over the battlefield. He gestured in disbelief first at me, and then the fireball. I just stood there stunned at what I had done.

  I, I just made another freaking sun! I knew it was a possibility with the spell, but I had never expected to be able to do it on my first attempt. I stayed there looking around, trying to regain the strength that channeling that much mana had sapped.

  “Up! Up, on your feet, and stop gawking! It's just magic!” I looked over and just a few feet from me I found Tol’geth lifting men off the ground back onto their feet. “The dead won’t stop to stare!” His words hit home for me just as it did for most of our small army.

  I shook myself and took stock as the infantry began reforming their line. That took nearly a third of my mana pool! I had been almost full when I had cast that spell. That cost me over 36 thousand mana! It also only left me about 55 thousand and regaining only about 4 mana a second. I had a rather large mana pool, but my regeneration rate really needed some love. It will take me a while to get back to full.

  I gripped my staff, and readied it for use against the remainder of the horde, though I still felt a bit winded, I had recovered from the spells fatigue rather quickly. As I looked out, it seemed that my spell, and the fighting from before I had cast it, had left about half of the enemy standing. At least there aren't any giant skeletons left, I thought.

  As the men finished reforming, a lone man in a light blue robe I had not seen before, ran in front of the line. He lifted his sword and staff, one in each hand, above his head, and shouted words I could not hear as the wind began to pick up. “Ma’von! Get back here, you foolish boy!” The voice was that of Lord Traser, Lord of Laketown. He wasn’t angry, he was panicked.