Void Legion

by Terry C. Simpson

  He clicked and waited, ready to attack. But there were no other forms within a hundred feet that might be players or NPCs. Such absence left a sour taste in his mouth.

  “I smell something dead nearby,” Saba whispered, tail swishing a bit faster. Her tail stopped. “Wait here.” She became one with the shadows.

  Long minutes stretched in her absence. Frost sat, stiff as a corpse, eyes narrowed and straining to see, echolocation stretched as far as he could manage. He licked his lips. He brought Noobstick up to rest across his lap, one hand on the carry handle and the other on the back grip, finger hovering over the trigger.

  “Someone’s approaching,” Gilda said, a hair above a whisper.

  Frost let out a series of clicks. Almost immediately, he had the impression of a large object in the dark, gliding swiftly toward them. He aimed Noobstick. The shape was roughly Saba’s size and shape. He squinted.

  Saba reappeared in the same spot from which she had left. “The village scout is about a thousand feet ahead of us and another four or five hundred to our left. Took an arrow in the eye.”

  “Means we’re close.” Frost eased his finger away from Noobstick’s trigger and lowered the weapon a bit. Though some of his tension had abated, he still did not relax.

  “Perhaps,” Saba said. “The scout’s been dead for a while.”

  “Any sign of the Redthorns?” Gilda asked.

  “They definitely passed by here. The scout was flanking their trail. Like Frost said, we’re close, so I’d be careful. We wouldn’t want to run head first into them.”

  “I say we push harder.” Frost wasn’t about to let up now. “Not much time left before sunrise.”

  “Fine.” Saba turned to lead.

  A burst of moonlight illuminated their surroundings. An instant later, they were mired in darkness once more.

  “Wait.” Frost frowned. Saba stopped and faced him. Frost nodded up ahead to where the silhouette of the mountains ended. The land flattened to rise again in the distance. “Is that the valley entrance?”

  “Yes,” Saba said. “Not far from where I found the scout.”

  “Makes sense,” Frost mused. “Looks like the beginning of a plateau up there. Great place for a marksman or two.”

  Saba shifted to regard the shadowy slopes. “You sure?”

  “Definitely.” Frost wondered if Saba’s concern was more for their well-being or the fact that she’d missed something he’d seen. Or just plain fear.

  “If they’re watching the entrance, how do we approach the valley?” Gilda asked.

  “Leave the mounts here and use every bit of cover to get closer,” Frost said. “If I’m right about the plateau, then Saba, you’re the best suited to climb up and deal with any lookouts.” The centaur glared at him but offered no protest. Her kind were by far the better natural climbers than eradae. “From up there, you should also be able to see the Redthorns’ campfires. After you’ve killed the lookouts, you can lead us to the camp.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Gilda said.

  “Maybe.” Saba’s tail swished. “But it also means we might not make it before daylight.”

  Frost heaved a sigh. “Maybe not, but daylight won’t matter if we’re dead.”

  “Fine, I’ll go.” Saba pawed at the ground before she trotted off toward the slopes and disappeared into darkness.

  Frost and Gilda dismounted. They took a moment for a much-needed stretch. When they were ready, they left the crevids munching on grass and headed in the same direction as Saba. At the base of the slopes they kept low to the ground and crept from boulder to boulder, to clumps of bush or grass, to stunted trees, to long shadows. Whenever the moon shed its cloak of clouds, they waited until the return of night’s inky blackness.

  Frost surveyed the route ahead in those moments, picking out the next best spot to hide. He also kept an eye on the ledge but discerned no movement. On occasion, he hoped for a glimpse of Saba up on the mountain’s shoulder. The centaur was nowhere to be seen. Time dragged, progress excruciatingly slow. The need for caution gnawed at him.

  He and Gilda reached the end of Apep’s Belly. The Gerza Valley yawned before them, illuminated by a brief spike of moonlight. Far to the east towered Mount Setep and the rest of the Bakare range, peaks crowned in storm clouds. To the south, clothed in night’s rags, was the expanse of small rivers that fed fertile lands and forests. On their right was the plateau and the Apep’s peaks. Standing out miles ahead were the lights of Marna, the town built in the Apep’s shadow.

  “Looks to be a little over forty miles away.” Gilda was looking toward the town. “Even if we ran nonstop, it’d take over two hours.”

  “I’m tempted to go for it.” Frost ground his jaw. The longer they took, the more his mind conjured images of the erada captives slaughtered for their horns. Tia’s face was among them.

  “I’m right with you. But we can’t. Not until Saba returns.”

  “Not even then,” Frost said.

  “Why not?”

  “The same reason we’re creeping along here. If the Redthorns aren’t at Marna yet, then they’re gonna have other lookouts who’re sure to spot us if we don’t sneak in.”

  “No doubt.” Gilda nodded.

  Knowing the dilemma did little to curb Frost’s need. He wracked his brain for another alternative. There had to be a faster way.

  “What do you think of her?” Gilda asked.

  “Who? Saba?”

  “Yes.”

  “She seems a capable player,” Frost said, “if a bit too shook over every little thing.”

  “Yeah,” Gilda said. “I couldn’t imagine playing the way she does… second guessing everything… always afraid.”

  “Neither could I, but it’s worked good enough for her to make the alpha. And she’s been useful. Just gotta mind our mouths around her.”

  “No doubt.”

  A cold prickle ran down Frost’s neck to his spine. His inadvertent echolocation activated. Someone approached from behind. He snapped his head around, expecting an enemy. It was Saba, dark, silent, and swift.

  “You were right,” she said upon reaching them. “There were two lookouts up on the ledge.”

  “What about the Redthorn camp?” Frost asked.

  “It’s on the other side of a small wooded area about halfway to Marna.”

  An objective completion for finding the Redthorns popped into Frost’s head.

  “Finally, some good luck.” He’d scarcely said the words when the gray pallidity of a new dawn seeped into the eastern sky. Lightning radiated among the clouds. Thunder grumbled. “Shit.”

  “Yarl’s backside,” Saba cursed.

  “We might still be able to pull it off.” Frost squinted as he tried to study valley. But the land was little more than silhouettes and shadows.

  “How?” Saba looked at him askance. “Even if we did something as stupid as running right now, we won’t make it to the camp before it’s bright enough for them to see us coming for miles.”

  With his pointer finger, Frost indicated himself and Gilda. “See us? Sure.” He pointed at Saba. “But it’s no prob for you and your sharded Concealment and Streak. You can get to those woods you mentioned in less than half the time it’d take us. Get rid of any lookouts and–”

  “And what?” Saba screwed up her face. “Take on the entire Redthorn company? I’m only level twelve. They’re stronger than those Battleguards we fought.”

  “I was gonna say signal to us.” Frost shrugged. “With the storm clouds, it’ll still be dark enough that if you shot a single Aether Arrow low to ground, we should be the only ones to spot it.”

  “Risky,” Gilda said, “but it can work.”

  “It will,” Frost said. “While Saba does that, you and I can run back to get our m
ounts. Knowing crevids, they’re still in that same spot. Or close to it. Any objections?” He looked to Saba.

  She rolled her eyes then grumbled, “Let’s just get it done.”

  Frost smiled. When Saba trotted away and melted into her surroundings, he and Gilda set off in the opposite direction.

  Without the need for caution, the return trip was a short one. They retrieved the crevids and raced back to the slope overlooking the valley. The eastern sky now blushed, hues bleeding into the storm-laden quilt, revealing more of the ground below. Fog crept across the land, draped the fields like a sheet.

  Frost made out the woods halfway to Marna. He waited, breath expectant. Lightning flickered. Gilda’s crevid stomped its hooves.

  A tiny azure bolt streaked from the woods, burned through the mist. It lasted but an instant.

  Frost yanked on his reins and sent the crevid darting down the slope. He leaned forward into a wind thick with the crevid’s musk and the valley’s freshness. The wind streamed by him, flapped his cloak. Within moments, he’d reached the valley floor. Wearing a shroud of fog, Frost pushed hard, knowing the window to cover the distance on the open grassland was small.

  “Faster, damn it, faster.” He flapped the reins.

  The crevid snorted. Its jounce became more violent. Frost was only too glad for the soft earth and the grumble of thunder to muffle the mount’s hooves.

  Fog dissipated, inch by creeping inch. The woods loomed larger. Frost focused on the birth of morning, the misty remnants, and the tree line. He could just make out Saba with her back turned, watching for any unwanted approach.

  Heart thundering, Frost smiled. He would make it in time. They would somehow sneak Tia and others out of the camp.

  A drake’s shriek shattered the dawn. Another answered. And another. The trumpeting cries of the Sky Swords became a chorus.

  Frost balled his hands into fists. He glanced toward Apep’s Belly to where he thought the shrieks originated, but only a sky wreathed in storm clouds greeted him. He flapped his reins harder against the sense that they might be too late.

  CHAPTER 17

  Frost reached the trees and leaped from the crevid’s back just as the heavens opened. The first patter of rain fell. Lightning lit the sky. Thunder crashed. He snatched Noobstick from its harness and nodded to Saba. “Lead us to the camp.”

  “It’s too late,” Saba cried.

  “No, it isn’t,” Frost snarled. “This fight, coupled with the storm, might work in our favor.”

  “How?” Grimacing, Saba threw her hands up in exasperation.

  Frost took a breath to fight his trepidation, nostrils filling with the scent of fresh rain. “If Umesh Madara sends all his men to fight the Sky Swords, we’re gonna sneak in, free the prisoners, grab some mounts, and make a run for Marna.”

  “And if they don’t?” Saba arched an eyebrow.

  Frost sighed. He didn’t wish to be the one, but he could think of no other way. “If Umesh keeps some men in reserve, then I’m gonna help the Sky Swords by attacking the Redthorns from the forest. That’ll force his hand. Then it’s up to you and Gilda. If we do it that way, I’ll meet y’all on the camp’s far side, and we run for the Aviary.”

  “Even if we accomplished all of that, how do we signal to you?” Saba asked.

  Frost folded his lips and gave it some thought. “Cause a stampede. Find a bull, send it running out of fear, and the others will follow.”

  Saba shook her head ever so slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person as stubborn or as reckless as you.”

  “Thanks,” Frost said. “But I prefer persistent. Now, the camp. Quickly.”

  Saba turned and galloped deeper into the woods among dappled shadows. Frost and Gilda followed. Drake calls rang out. The Azureguards would be there in minutes.

  “Way to assume I can handle what needs doing,” Gilda said as she ran beside him.

  “A friend of mine claimed you were one of the better players he’d seen. He’s usually trustworthy. Feel free to let me know if he was wrong.”

  “One of the better players?” Gilda scoffed. “If we weren’t pressed for time.” Her voice trailed off.

  Frost smiled. “I actually look forward to the day.”

  “So do I.”

  Through the light drizzle and the trees ahead, Frost discerned tents and a flurry of movement. Saba had stopped behind a large trunk. Her tail swished. Crouched low, they came up on either side of the dresdor.

  Dressed in crimson and black, the Redthorns were comprised of two companies, one mainly made up of grand korae. A few dozen gurashi towered among them, each with marbled skin, either blue and red, green and brown, or some other combination that marked them as impure among their kind. Outcasts. One full company had gathered weapons and were rushing outside the camp, facing away from Frost and the others, attention riveted on the storm-wreathed sky.

  Saba pointed toward a stockade on the left. “Over there.”

  The vast majority of the slaves were eradae. The gurashi among them stood out, taller than the closest eradae by some two feet. Frost concentrated on the gurashi. Soon enough, he picked out Melori. Nebsamu and Tia were beside him, heads barely visible above the stockade. Tightness eased from Frost’s shoulders at the sight of Tia.

  Drakes screeched and trumpeted. The beat of wings accompanied the dissonance. Drake riders burst from the storm clouds. The drizzle became a downpour.

  “I’ll meet you in that stand of trees.” Frost pointed to the stand in question several hundred feet past the encampment. “Wait for me to attack. That should bring the second company out. Good luck.”

  He waited for them to engage Concealment. Clicking, he tried to get a sense of their forms, but it was odd being told something was there that didn’t seem to exist. He watched as the rain peppered their invisible shapes, creating ripples in the sheet of water, and hoped no one else would notice. He counted to ten before slinking through the woods to flank the Redthorns.

  Magical booms echoed in concert with thunder’s peal. Men roared. Drakes shrieked. Scores of Flame and Ice Globes and Infernal Spears shot up through the rain from among the Redthorns. Diving drakes banked this way and that, twisting to avoid the onslaught.

  The Sky Swords answered with their own magical barrage. Cyan, bright white, or purple radiated among the clouds. Thunderbolts spilled forth.

  Aether and Ice Shields and Aether Barriers sprang up around casters from both factions. Most warriors brought their shields to bear if they had one. Some combatants tried to dodge the magical assault.

  Drake rider spells blasted aside Redthorns lacking the appropriate protection, but those victims staggered to their feet moments later. A second or third strike put them down permanently.

  Successful Redthorn first attacks against similarly unprotected drake riders elicited pain-filled screeches from drakes and sent the beasts spiraling down before the riders brought them under control. Subsequent blasts either knocked the riders from the mounts or saw the drakes plummet head first from the sky to crash into the ground.

  Frost crouched in the brush and aimed Noobstick above the Redthorn formations. He chose Aether Bomb and squeezed the trigger.

  “Sixty,” he said under his breath, beginning the recharge countdown.

  A round cyan luminance formed at the cannon’s tip, growing until it was the size of a basketball. It launched from the barrel with a whoosh. Leaving a trail behind, it shot up into the sky.

  “Fifty-five.”

  Frost took off running through the wet forest to a different location.

  “Forty-five.”

  The blue Aether Bomb soared up to its peak. It began its descent.

  While running, Frost snatched glances to determine the bomb’s trajectory. Mentally, he continued the countdown.


  He’d barely gained the next chosen spot twenty feet away when the Aether Bomb landed on a Redthorn. The moment the ball hit the grand kora, it exploded with a ring and a roar. The Redthorn was blown from his feet. Flames shot out. Anyone within ten feet of the impact zone was afire. They staggered about, screaming and swatting at themselves as if caught in a swarm of stinging insects.

  Cannon Kata kicked in. Frost used the speed burst to dash to another location. Exp gained was a distant thing in the back of his mind.

  He waited the additional recharge time, snapped a look toward the Redthorns, aimed, pulled the trigger, and began another countdown. He repeated the sequence half a dozen times, pausing for longer periods, for minutes if needed to add to the confusion.

  But eventually, the Redthorns caught on. The second company charged outside to reinforce the first. A barrage of Flame and Ice Globes, Infernal Spears, and Thunderbolts ripped through Frost’s last location. Flame Columns burst from the ground. They set the woods ablaze. Several Redthorns zigzagged toward the forest.

  The ground quaked. Animals bellowed. Over a hundred mounts galloped from the camp, charging toward the Redthorns. Chaos ensued as the Redthorns scattered.

  Using the last bit of Cannon Kata’s influence, he sprinted toward the area where Saba and Gilda had left the woods. Heart racing, hair plastered to his face, he grinned. Damn, I love this shit.

  He dashed from the trees toward the rear of the encampment, away from the battle. Echolocation picked out a small object moving incredibly fast. Something blurred in his periphery. By sheer instinct, he twisted and dropped to the ground. And felt a tug as something sheared through his leather cuirass and the gambeson beneath. A burning sensation across his shoulder and chest elicited a yelp.

  He came up on one knee, brought Noobstick to his waist, and faced the direction in which he’d discerned the motion and the object. Squinting through the downpour, he tried to make out any movement among the woods he’d vacated.