Gamble grinned. “They don’t know that. Just make sure not to waste any of them and the bloodier or more gruesome your hits are, the better. We need to make them fear us.”
“I can do that but it’s only a temporary reprieve and you know it.”
“Aye, that I do.” The dwarf lifted up one of his runes. “This is a Serendipity runestone. Once the attack starts, I’m going to cast it and hope for the best.”
Pixi had enlarged herself to near normal size and was currently visible when she asked, “What does it do?”
Gamble shrugged. “I have no idea.”
The teenage faerie cocked her head to the left and chewed on the inside of her lip for several seconds before asking, “What do you mean by that?”
“Back home in the game, everyone nearby would gain bonuses to all stats, rolls, attacks, defenses, saves, et cetera. Additionally, some sort of random beneficial effect would happen.” Gamble paused for a second and flipped the small stone in the air. “Traditionally speaking serendipity means a ‘happy accident’ or ‘pleasant surprise’ specifically the accident of finding something good or useful while not specifically searching for it. Oddly enough I know that serendipity was once voted to be one of the hardest words to translate or accurately describe.”
Mathias grinned. “So, you’re gonna cast it and hope for the best.”
“Yep, unless of course you have a better plan?”
The Archer shook his head. “Nope. Sounds like fun.”
“That it will be,” replied the dwarf. “As to the rest of the plan, it’s simple, don’t get dead.”
Pixi giggled. “Great plan. Let’s do it.” Flapping her wings, she shrank down to her smallest size and disappeared from view.
Mathias just nodded to his friend and climbed back up the ruined stairs.
They didn’t have to wait long. Within ten minutes both groups began to converge on the ruins. Gamble did a quick head count, there had to be at least thirty hunters between the two groups. Luckily for them, they seemed to be arguing. Just when he thought that they could just slip out over the back wall, he spied several soldiers being sent out to guard for just that sort of action. They were trapped.
Now that they were closing in on the ruins, Gamble got his first real look at the pursuers. With the exception of the two leaders and one old man, they looked like out of work soldiers; men who had fallen on hard times and turned their military skills to mercenary work. The only good news was that he only spied three crossbows in the whole lot and no long bows. That meant they would have to get up close and personal, which was a slight advantage.
Even as Gamble was trying to figure out the best way to handle their attack, Mathias’ bow rang out and one of the lead mercenaries fell to the ground with an arrow protruding from his throat. His screams echoed through the gathering and stopped them in their tracks. He was a long time dying and it was bloody and noisy; just what Gamble had asked for. Of course, it’s one thing to desire something and another thing to see it in effect. The poor man was suffering but it was buying them some much needed time. That was until the two leaders stepped forward. One ended the injured man’s suffering with a quick slash of his sword while the other one began cussing out the hesitant soldiers. Then, one by one, the mercenaries commenced their attack and Mathias’ bow began to sing.
Out of some old habit, Gamble whispered a portion of Psalm Twenty-three. “Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for you are with me…”
He kissed the magical rock, spoke the command word and tossed the Serendipity Runestone on the ground.
“I hope you work.” Drawing his twin daggers, he called on one of his Skald special abilities and faded into the shadows. He wasn’t completely invisible like Pixi but it would hide him from view from the first soldiers through the opening. Even though he could no longer see them from his new vantage point, he knew when the mercenaries began their charge by their blood curling screams and the sound of heavy boots on the ground.
Within seconds, they breeched the open doorway and the battle was joined in earnest.
* * * * *
Grigoris had watched in silent resignation as the gamers wrestled with the hazards of being inside the game. He was both saddened and proud of the twin sacrifice made by Bjǿrn and Moira in the face of such insurmountable odds. Yes, they had killed themselves but in doing so, they had gained a moral victory. They had died like they had lived, together.
Now he watched as a trio of gamers, or Outlanders as they were now called, defiantly face overwhelming odds. None of the three had even considered the possibility of surrender. They were determined to face their assailants head on. That was a quality he had to admire.
Nonetheless, Grigoris was most proud of Tariq. After committing such a heinous act as to murdering another gamer, he had acted unselfishly in trying to rescue the witch, Callistra. But now, Grigoris knew that his brother’s greatest pawn was moving against the witch and the assassin. He didn’t want to lose them, not when they were both fighting valiantly to regain their humanity.
Grigoris sat down with his legs crossed in front of the silver mirror. Folding his wings around himself, he focused all his attention and limited power on sending a warning to Tariq. The seraph knew that if his spell worked and slipped past the magical barriers that kept him bound to this tower, the assassin would be warned about the impending danger. If not, his spell’s energy would just add more power to al’Shaytăn.
Not to mention that Grigoris would lose two very powerful pawns of his own and his game pieces in this realm were very limited.
Chapter 24
Tariq al’Nasir al’Rafiq watched the rising of the twin suns of Hyperborea with mixed emotions.
He was glad in the fact that his current shift was over and he could get some much needed rest. But saddened by the fact another day had passed without an opportunity to break Callistra out of jail. Which meant another day inside the Peacekeeper camp. The only bright side had been that he believed that he’d found a weakness in their perimeter. He hadn’t worked out all the particulars of the jail break but a plan was forming in the back of his mind.
Tariq was heading to the mess hall to grab some breakfast when a horse and rider came galloping into camp and nearly ran him over. Without so much as a sorry, the rider leapt from the horse and rushed inside the Grand Marshal’s tent. There was nothing unusual about riders coming and going but this one was different. In the first place, the horse looked about to die from exhaustion. The messenger had obviously ridden it hard, long and unforgiving. Secondly, the clothes of this messenger were completely different. He wore the colors and tabard of the Peacekeepers but these were of the finest silk and not rough spun cotton.
Oddly enough, Tariq felt a weird pricking sensation in his fingers.
A long forgotten quote he last heard in Mrs. Rector’s English class in South Boston High School came to mind, ‘By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,’ MacBeth, Act Four, Scene One.
How or why he suddenly remembered that, he had no idea. He also had no notion what the sensation meant but for some reason he suspected it to be a bad omen. Especially since the pricking occurred with the arrival of the Peacekeeper messenger.
Not one to ignore a gut feeling, Tariq stepped behind the nearest tent and checked his surroundings to make sure the coast was clear. Seeing no one nearby, he called on one of the innate abilities of the assassin class and faded from sight. Moving silently, he crept up to the back of the Grand Marshall’s tent and knelt down. Pulling out his dagger, he cut a small hole in the fabric and peered inside.
* * * * *
Grand Marshal Jericho had been studying maps and planning troop movements when the royal page burst in. He hadn’t been expecting a summons from his master but then, the Overlord could do as he pleased.
The royal page walked in and handed him a glass orb. Without a single word, the messenger pulled out his dagger and plunged it deep into his
heart. The page died without a word.
Jericho dropped what he was doing and moved to the center of his tent. Kneeling down onto one knee in what he hoped was a submissive pose, he crushed the orb in his right hand and dropped its contents on the dirt floor. Smoke and broken glass swirled throughout the room like a mini tornado, knocking things over and blowing loose paper all around. Jericho didn’t dare raise his face or try to shield it from the flying glass. Either action would be seen as disrespectful to the Overlord.
After several minutes the wind and smoke died down and coalesced into the image of a heavily hooded figure. When the Overlord finally spoke, his words seemed hollow and devoid of any emotion. “Report.”
“Master. The trap set against the bandits of Crooked Creek was a great success. Casualties among the new recruits were approximately twenty-five percent. The rest of your troops will be in place to eliminate the remainder of the bandits in two days.”
The image of the Overlord cocked his head to one side. “I sense that you’re holding something back.”
Jericho swallowed hard. “Although the trap was a success, we encountered stiff resistance from a strange trio; a holy man in blue armor, an assassin and a dark haired witch.”
“And?”
“A wyvern rider in red armor.”
The Overlord shook his head back and forth slowly. He gave the Grand Marshal the same disappointing look a parent would give its child when it’s done something it knows to be wrong. “I warned you about the wyvern riders.”
Jericho glanced up. “It was unavoidable. The red warrior crashed his serpent into my men and proceeded to cut through them like a scythe through wheat.”
The smoky figure made a slight gesture with his left hand, a kind of choking motion and the Grand Marshal couldn’t breathe. “That sounded like an excuse to me. You know I don’t believe in excuses. Give me one good reason why I should let you live?”
Jericho clawed at the unseen hand that was choking the life of him. He knew he didn’t have long before he was dead. He only had one chance. Between gasps for air, he croaked out. “I captured the witch. I captured the witch.”
The Overlord relaxed his crushing grip ever so slightly, not enough for his subordinate to move but enough where he could breathe. After all, Jericho had always been loyal and useful.
“And why is some witch worth sparing your life?”
Jericho sucked in the precious air and struggled to get enough breath so he could explain. “There is something special about her. I can’t explain it but I sensed it. The same could be said about the red warrior who decimated my men.”
The Overlord had his ‘Hand of Force’ squeeze hard again and Jericho found himself lifted several inches off the ground and unable to breathe once more. “First off, they are my men…not yours. You live and die at my whim. Your only purpose is to serve me…understood?”
Jericho couldn’t answer but managed a weak nod.
“Secondly, you better be right about this witch or I will be very angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. Trust me on this.” The Overlord released Jericho and the warrior fell to the tent floor in a heap. “At dawn tomorrow, my courier will arrive. Have her ready for pickup.”
Jericho shifted position enough to nod and whisper, “As you command Master.”
* * * * *
Even as the Overlord ended his spell, Tariq shifted the small segment of the tent back into place and quickly added a few whip stitches from his handy sewing kit to keep the fabric in place. Sliding away from the Grand Marshal’s tent, Tariq ducked behind a nearby wagon and dropped his invisibility spell.
Entering the mess hall, the assassin ate his morning meal automatically as he digested everything he heard and saw. If he had any hope of freeing Callistra, it had to be before the courier arrived. The logical side of him also realized that he needed a least a few hours of sleep before attempting the jail break.
For good or ill, he was going to try his crazy plan. He didn’t have time to come up with anything else.
Chapter 25
Even as the twin suns of Hyperborea began to creep higher in the morning sky, Tao and his friends waited in the courtyard for the rest of the bandits to make their decision known.
A small group of ten bandits lead by Jerrick had joined the Outlanders before dawn. They were mostly the young idealists that had been recruited by Jagoda with the promise of throwing off the yoke of slavery; not that any of them had actually been slaves. They had always been told that they were serfs to the Atlantean Empire and they believed it. After some intense questioning, Tao had discovered that none of them had ever seen an Atlantean nor had they ever paid tribute to the Dragon Kings. It was just something they were raised to believe and so they did.
That left thirty-one bandits unaccounted for…Tao shook his head. Actually the count would be twenty-nine. He’d forgotten to subtract the two idiots both he and Cozad had killed.
Tao frowned when he realized that he’d so easily dismissed the killing of the young braggart. That was a slippery slope and he didn’t want to fall into apathy over killing someone. Even though part of his mind kept telling him that this was nothing more than a game and everyone was just part of the intense computer graphics. Of course, the rational side of him argued against that thought. Their blood looked and smelled real enough, as did the sounds of their death screams.
Hearing movement from the tavern, he buried his doubts. He was a soldier. It was his job to fight and die for his country. He didn’t have to like it but he did have to do it. That was one of the mantras he’d told himself over and over during his time in the ‘Sandbox’. It might be harsh but then survival in a time of war was harsh. And like it or not, Tao knew that they were basically at war while they were stuck inside the game.
Even before the bandits stepped into the light, he knew what to expect. Greed had taken hold of their hearts and they had found courage in the bottom of a bottle of strong spirits. So when they stepped into the courtyard with bared blades he wasn’t surprised.
Nevertheless, Kastle was. The priest leaned his head toward him and asked, “Tao?”
The scarlet samurai ignored him and turned completely around to face Jerrick and the new recruits. “No matter what happens or is said, you are not to draw your weapons. Period. I don’t care if they call you by name or insult your mother, do not draw your weapon. Even if they rush forward and attack one of us, do not draw your weapon. Only if they get past me or my friends and are threatening your life are you authorized to draw your weapons. Understood?”
Jerrick nodded. “Aye Captain.”
Tao cocked his head to one side. “I’m serious about this. If any of you cannot follow this simple command, then you will be dismissed from my service. No questions and no excuses.”
“Understood Captain.” Jerrick answered more forcefully and glared over his shoulders at his squad. “It will be as you command.”
“See to it.”
Tao turned his attention back to the waiting mob and stepped out to meet them.
Kastle matched his stride.
Tao began making a mental list of the little nervous nuances each bandit displayed. From the beads of sweat on their forehead or upper lip, to which ones nervously shifted their weight from side to side or fidgeted with their armor or constantly fiddled with their weapons. All these ‘tells’ foreshadowed what each bandit was planning on doing if it came down to battle. Tao didn’t do this consciously but unconsciously as part of the blending of the Samurai warrior spirit with his own military training. When they were about ten feet away, the two Outlanders stopped and stared hard at the waiting bandits but neither of them drew their weapons.
The mob stopped moving and slightly bowed itself around them in a slight semi-circle. No one talked or moved for several minutes. It seemed as if they were waiting for something. Tao knew what it was even if they didn’t. The mob was waiting for a spark, a reason to attack and by not being threatening; neither Tao nor Kastle had given it
to them…at least not yet.
After several long agonizing minutes, Tao finally spoke. “You have two choices before you, live or die. It’s as simple as that. I gave everyone here a chance at greatness but no…you wanted to be greedy. So that offer is gone. I also gave you a chance at a life away from here with a small fortune but no, you wanted more. So that offer is gone also. You now have two options left, turn away and live or stay and die.”
Finally one of the bandits took one step forward. “Do you really think that you’ll be able to stop us? All of us?”
“Probably but it’s not me you need to worry about. It’s him.” Tao grinned and pointed to one side.
Even though the bandits were suspecting a trick, they couldn’t help but look.
On cue, Cozad stepped out of the shadows. However, the darkness seemed to cling to his frame and slowly drip off his armor like black raindrops off a hot tin roof. It was chilling to witness, even for those who had crossed over with him.
The bandits looked back at the samurai and then back at the dreadknight. Fear was clearly written on their faces.
“Still can’t decide?”
Tao signaled again and the ladies stepped into view, one on each side of the bandits. Each spell caster was flanked by their minions. Aaliyah by two Earth Elementals, the easiest to summon considering their location, and Arieal by the animated corpses of the bandits Tao and Cozad had killed last night. It was a frightening sight especially since the bandit that Tao had decapitated was carrying its severed head in one hand while the other held a sword.
It was also at this point when the bandits realized that they were surrounded.
“Still like your odds?” Tao asked. When they didn’t answer the deadly samurai continued as if they had. “You still have a chance to leave here alive but the door of opportunity is closing fast. Those that wish to live should drop your weapons and move over to the Elementals.” When no one moved, he added more forcefully. “Now!”
Lost Lands: The Game - Atlantis Page 20