The redhead went off with the harn an hour before to do some scouting, and they had just returned.
“No,” he shook his head. “Normal hunters. Seven of them. The highest level is thirteen.”
The big guy breathed a sigh of relief and asked:
“What are they doing?”
“They set up camp on the northern side of the hill,” Randy started explaining. “They dragged over an antelope.”
“We gonna wait ‘em out?” I asked.
“That won’t be possible,” the ranger answered. “Two orcs already went out to scout. They’ll see our tracks soon enough. Your beast is keeping an eye on them now.”
“That’s good,” I told the big guy matter-of-factly, flexing my wrists. “And we’ll be able to eat some fresh meat.”
“First we need to disarm the scouts carefully and preferably without making any noise,” Randy said thoughtfully.
“Well, I can help with that,” I smiled.
A few minutes later we saw two orcs cautiously moving between the stones and attentively studying their surroundings. Middling height, they cut a veiny figure. Tusked countenances. Levels ten and eleven. Armed with bows and short spears.
Randy asked me to tell him in detail about a few of my spells and was pleasantly surprised. He quickly put together a simple plan of action. Honestly, it was obvious that the ranger wanted to know a lot more about my capabilities. But he was behaving like a reasonable person, so he didn’t pressure me. He’d probably never had to command a mage before today, even one as weak as me.
The orc scouts were slowly but inexorably moving right into our trap. Based on their periodic exchanges of short phrases, they were not aware of our ambush.
According to the plan we’d worked out, I was supposed to immobilize the orcs with lightning. Then Randy and Bruni would tie them up in a couple seconds and drag them into our cave for a brief but exhaustive conversation.
Overall, it was all going according to plan so far. Right up until one of the orcs suddenly stopped and looked sharply in the direction of where I was hiding. An instant later, I heard him give a loud guttural cry. At that very moment, one of Randy’s black arrows sunk into his eye, flying in from the right.
I hadn’t used my lightning yet — they were too far away.
The second orc reacted instantly. Nimbly blocking his dead comrade’s body from the flying arrows and loudly screaming for help, he ran ahead.
From the right, I heard muted cursing from Bruni behind his stone. The situation had spun out of control. The dead orc’s well-leveled senses and observation played against us.
The orc that shouted for the whole surrounding area was not able to run far. The harn’s scaly body flickered like dark lightning out from behind a stone and slammed down on the runaway’s back. A moment later, he choked on his own scream. But alas, it was too late — the rest of the orcs were probably already running our way.
Randy jumped out from behind the stone on the left and started quickly gathering his loosed arrows.
“Order the harn to drag the orc’s body this way!” he shouted to me. “And have him stay in view! We want the orcs to think their comrades were attacked by a beast!”
Gorgie instantly carried out the order and unhurriedly dragged the corpse in our direction.
Just when I thought the five other orcs hadn’t heard their comrade’s cries, they finally appeared. The orcs ran in silence. With spears and bows at the ready. They looked somewhat unhurried as well. I think they realized that there was no one left to help because the screams had stopped.
Strange as it may have been, Randy’s improvisation worked out. As soon as the orcs saw Gorgie hunched over the bodies of the scouts, their caution disappeared without a trace. Loudly, howling and screaming curses at the predator, they dashed forward with spears pointed forward. They must have been hoping one of their comrades was still alive.
The harn easily dodged several arrows and jumped behind a broad stone. His loud mocking growl seemingly roused the attackers even further which I did not fail to take advantage of.
— You have attacked Steppe Orc (13).
— You have dealt 29 damage!
— You have attacked Steppe Orc (11).
— You have dealt 63 damage!
— You have attacked Steppe Orc (11).
— You have dealt 52 damage!
— You have attacked Steppe Orc (12).
— You have dealt 41 damage!
— You have attacked Steppe Orc (10).
— You have dealt 72 damage!
Pushing Mee forward, I said:
“Hurry up, you don’t have much time. Gorgie will help you.”
The gremlin nodded decisively and, getting a powerful grip on his thin knife, ran in the direction of the frozen orcs. Bruni, Randy and Gorgie were already there.
A few seconds later, I saw four victory notifications. Randy tied up the fifth orc tight and dragged him over to the stones. And there he quickly interrogated him.
“We have to get out of here,” he said somberly after the interrogation. “These are hunters from the Clan of the Red Wolves. Their temporary camp is two days’ travel from here. Soon they will take notice and send some more serious warriors.”
* * *
I would characterize the road south in a few words: mud, cold and inhuman exhaustion. Our two days underway felt like a never-ending nightmare. Even the higher-level Randy and Bruni were having a hard time.
It was as if the ranger had a premonition of disaster and was pulling us forward with a singular obsession. And despite our exhaustion and the unwelcoming steppe, today we finally reached our destination.
“The Bridge of Bones!” Mee said with awe in his voice when we saw the massive skeleton of some monster lying across the bed of a troubled river.
By the way, the gremlin had traveled all that time on the harn’s back, and was the most rested of our group.
“They say that hill over there was formed from the skull of this beast,” Randy shared some knowledge, breathing heavily.
I should note that the ranger proved not to be the most talkative guy. Of course, he did speak, but it was always more about things that he himself was interested in.
He especially enjoyed asking me all kinds of questions. For example, about my magic, how I got here, or the harn. I naturally kept mum and just handed out the odd crumb of information, which always made Randy furrow his brow and scratch his head unhappily. And yet, he was in no rush to answer my questions either. In fact, I was getting the impression that the redheaded scout must have been weighed down by so many oaths he’d have looked a holiday tree if I could see them.
And as for Bruni well, to put it lightly, the big guy knew only very particular pieces of information. And fairly surface level ones at that. For example, he knew little about mages, the value of esses and tablets, or the political situation in the kingdom. But he had a brilliant understanding of the capital’s finest gastronomic routes, or which tavern served the tastiest blood sausages and brewed the best beer. He was familiar with every innkeeper of good repute and remembered the names of all their pretty waitresses. I’m sure that if I were to find myself in the capital with Bruni right now, I would have a nice place to sleep and tasty food to eat.
But alas, the men were still not saying a word about their unit or the reasons that drove their commander to set out for the Wastes. The story of the careerist captain was troubling me more and more.
“We have to hurry,” Randy said, looking from side to side in alarm. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
I also looked around. A wet gray steppe. A raging river. The ghastly ancient bridge, the Stone Forest forming a wall of trees and darkening the horizon. I wonder what exactly is bothering our commander.
I took a glance at Gorgie. The cat was calm.
The closer we came to the bridge, the more on edge Randy became. His anxiety transferred onto all of us. As we walked, we were looking from side to side, constantly kee
ping an eye on our surroundings and where we were placing our feet.
When we made it twenty steps from the bridge, Gorgie said he felt a strange premonition, but couldn’t quite tell what it was.
Once next to the titanic skeleton, I opened my mouth dumbfounded and stood perfectly still. Over the centuries, the bones had been transformed into gray stone. The gigantic ribs were playing the part of supports. In the spinal column, meanwhile, where the creature’s spinal cord had once been, the orcs had laid down a floor of wide wooden boards to make it easier for their shamans to pass. In comparison with the bridge, the raging river seemed like nothing more than an irritated stream.
“Onward! Let’s go!” Randy spurred us on.
“Hrn!” Gorgie repeated, his scales constantly vibrating.
Yet we never made it inside the bridge. One hundred yards away, three riders crested a hill.
“Wargs!” Bruni barked.
“Prepare for a skirmish!” Randy shouted and, turning to me, said:
“We’re going to need all your skill here! That is a shaman and his retinue!”
Seeing that we were not going to flee, the two riders dug their heels into the wide sides of their wolves and dashed forward. A lupine howl rolled over the steppe, turning the blood cold in my veins. The wolves were level eighteen and the orcs twenty, which put our chances of victory into serious doubt.
“Hide!” I shouted to the gremlin, activating muckwalker’s aura.
Randy and Bruni’s first arrows flew at the riders. The shaman’s defensive amulets, which by all appearances his bodyguards were draped in, worked flawlessly. The black arrows fell to dust without doing a single point of damage.
I hadn’t attacked yet because the distance was still too great.
Bruni’s quiver was quickly emptied. Throwing the bow aside and pulling out a scimitar, the big fellow gave a roar of fury and ran out to meet his enemies.
Sixty-five feet. I can already make out the grinning tusked faces of the orcs. Strong, broad-shouldered — they are noticeably different from the other orcs. Pointedly not using bows. They clearly want to take us captive.
Fifty feet. The wargs look somehow like wolves, but also like bears. Big massive bodies. Broad necks and thick paws. But despite their high level, they are noticeably slower than the harn.
“Get ready!” I shouted and activated a spell.
The lilac cloud of a gulper’s ram broke away from my hand and shot off into the riders. Several different-colored flames sparked up around the orcs’ bodies. Alas, I was not able to stun them or send them flying back. But still their wolves did get knocked off track. It was an amusing sight when the orcs realized they were up against a mage.
Bruni, no longer moving slow, brought his sword down full bore onto the nearest warg’s head. And surprisingly the blow landed!
“You broke through their defenses!” the ranger exclaimed gleefully. His bowstring started thrumming again with renewed force. Black arrows rained down on the orcs like a swarm of angry wild bees. They were blown away by this new turn of events. The shrieks of pain and angry growling, the ring of steel and war cries of the retinue men all came together into one solid din.
My Ram’s fifteen-second cooldown felt like fifteen hours. And Lightning wasn’t active yet — I was still six feet short.
Randy’s bow stopped thrumming. Out of arrows.
“Stay here and save your mana!” he shouted, running out to help Bruni. “Don’t forget about the shaman!”
I had three seconds to recharge.
The warg that struck Bruni is already lying on the ground twitching in predeath convulsions. Its master, run through with a few arrows, is lying in the distance and not showing any signs of life.
A second before the spell reloads. Bruni turns onto his side. The long tip of an orcish spear is sticking out of his back.
My teeth clenched in anger, I activate the spell.
My Ram has already thrown the second rider to the ground. Gorgie, distracting the warg from Bruni all that time, got up next to the wounded enemies in a few long jumps and began sowing death. Randy’s scimitar gave a few slashes, separating the orc’s head from its body.
At that very moment, the shaman entered the game. A powerful wave of burning air knocked the harn and ranger off their feet.
And though Gorgie had gotten up already despite his limping, Randy was lying motionless like a steaming broken doll.
To my surprise, the orcish warlock was in no particular hurry. His wolf, expressing no emotion, was slowly ambling toward the skirmish.
Gorgie, stumbling and shaking his head in rage like a fist-fighter that just took a nasty punch to the ear, gave a start forward. But I stopped him with a shout:
“Back!”
The scales on his right side went slightly dark but, based on his figures, the cat was doing fine. He must have reacted to the attack at the last moment and the shaman’s spell only grazed him.
“That was the right decision, slave!” shouted the grinning shaman.
I finally caught a glimpse of his level — eighteen.
I quickly ran a gaze over the battlefield. The orcs, wargs and my companions had died in a matter of seconds.
“Surrender if you know what’s good for you!” shouted the shaman. “Today is a special occasion for me. I’m going to let you live.”
I looked at my mana supply — and once again praised myself for my Wisdom. If my opponent is feeling chatty, I need to take advantage of that.
“So, you get lucky?” I shouted, smiling. “Did an otherworldly creature grant you a vial?!”
The shaman’s smiling face slowly stretched out in astonishment.
“How do you know the mysteries of orc-kind?!”
His fearsome cry was supported by an angry growl from the wolf. Gorgie didn’t let that go unanswered and growled back provocatively.
“You’re wrong about that, shaman!” I shouted. “This mystery does not belong to the orcs!”
The orc’s evil sloping eyes looked like tea saucers.
I chuckled and added:
“Like scavengers, you use that which you have no right to!”
Well, I was hoping to send the warlock over the edge and I had done just that. Why did I want that? Easy. He had been temporarily weakened by his fight with an otherworldly creature and subsequently absorbing its spirit. He must have spent a good deal on elixirs and potions. That was why he was holding back.
Obeying the shaman’s will, his wolf ran on the attack. I allowed the gray beast racing in my direction to come near. Then I activated ram, sending it flying back several yards. And at that very moment, the shaman sent a dark cloud of small sharp spines our way, heading off Gorgie’s attack. The spell only slightly hit Gorgie, the main force landed on me.
With a loud wail, the harn flew back and fell silent. I also took a nasty hit. I was lying on my back in the mud. My eyes were going dark, and I could taste a briny flavor in my mouth. I probably bit my tongue in the fall. I got lucky. The muckwalker aura absorbed all the damage. But I was left defenseless.
— Would you like to summon Longtailed Ysh Spirit?
Giving my assent, I immediately lost six hundred mana points. Seeing the semitransparent giant snake appear out of thin air and wrap itself around my body put the shaman into a state of shock. His lower jaw started quivering.
I noticed Gorgie start to stir out of the corner of my eye, trying not to draw attention. He was mad at the warlock. Very mad. But the warg was just about to wake up. Something to keep the harn busy.
Getting up off the ground, I felt a sharp pain in my side and gasped. I glanced at my life supply, which was slowly bleeding points. Apparently I hadn’t merely bitten my tongue.
“Surrender if you know what’s good for you!” the shaman wailed, pointing both of his dark-yellow-smoke-enshrouded hands in my direction. “I’ll be a good master!”
Only then did I notice that the orc was still quite young. We might have even been the same age.
The shaman sent a weary scowl at the Ysh’s powerful body. The snake’s triangular head was staring unflinchingly at my opponent. M-hm, this thing has quite the stare. I should know.
Trying to keep the orc distracted, I took a few short steps in his direction. Around ten more feet and lightning will be active.
Instead of answering, the shaman launched an amber ball at me. The Ysh reacted immediately and coiled up into a series of tight, scaly rings. The system told me that my shield had absorbed six hundred damage. Woah! I wonder what level that spell is!
The Wastes Page 14