by Phil Tucker
All hell had broken loose. Most of the stakes had toppled to the ground, some due to my fall, and others obviously due to the ogres moving forward and triggering the tripwires. A second ogre was down, a final bolt lanced straight into its throat, numerous deep cuts from Falkon’s blade across its chest and arms, its body mottled with frostbite and covered in its own vomit. The last one was climbing up the wall toward Lotharia and the ballista, smashing its fists into the rock to create handholds as it went.
I was down to three mana. I drew my dagger and ran out wide, circling around Mogr. The ogre leader had rebuffed Falkon’s best attack, knocking him back, and was about to go in for the kill when he shuddered to a stop. His throat convulsed, then he put one hand on his knee and vomited a torrent of half-digested flesh and bile.
What should I do? Race to the closest shadows so I could Shadow Step up to Lotharia? No. Even sick and diseased, Mogr was going to crush Falkon. There was no time. I burned the last of my mana and summoned my Death Dagger once more, and as Mogr heaved himself up I activated Pin Down and hurled the burning blue blade through his boot.
It sank not only through his flesh but also into the ground, and Mogr gave a grunt of surprise as his momentum was arrested, his knee driving down to the floor. Falkon was on him in a moment, swinging his great blade over and over again at the chieftain, who raised his club awkwardly in an attempt to block. Huge chips of wood went flying with each blow, and then with a roar that must have torn his throat Falkon swung his blade like a baseball bat and sheared clean through the ogre’s club.
I was out of mana and had only my dagger. What to do? I darted from side to side, trying to find the right time to attack, only to see Mogr reach out and pluck Falkon off the ground. Falkon screamed in pain and drew his blade across the ogre’s forearm, laying open the flesh to the bone, but still the ogre stood, lifting my friend right up into the air.
Madness took hold of me. I sprinted forward, scooted down, and slashed up with my blade as I passed between Mogr’s legs.
The ogre screamed in agony as I cut through, well, something. He dropped Falkon and staggered back. I grabbed Falkon by the forearm to heave him up, and then Adrenaline Surge ran out.
I staggered as if sucker-punched. Suddenly the morning sunlight was too bright, the dust in the air too thick, and the memory of every sick moment in my life crashed down upon me a thousandfold. Wheezing, I turned to face Mogr, only to see Falkon race forward again and slam his blade deep into Mogr’s gut.
The ogre screamed again and backhanded Falkon, who spun out like a ballerina on his tiptoes and crashed to the ground, going completely still. A moment later his body faded away, leaving his gear to sink to the ground without him.
I froze. For a second it didn’t make any sense at all, and then it hit me: Mogr had killed Falkon with a mere backhand. Shock and horror suffused me. It didn’t matter that my friend was respawning this very moment in the highland meadow.
He’d been killed before my eyes.
I gulped, looked up and met the ogre’s eyes. With a sneer, Mogr tore his foot free of my Death Dagger, leaving it lodged in the dirt behind it, smeared in gore and completely out of reach.
No mana. No shadows close by even if I’d had some.
Mogr grinned and pulled the sword out of his gut. The blade came free with a wet, sucking sound. Despite its size, it looked like a toy in the ogre’s fist.
I needed to run. Needed to get the hell out of there – but post-Surge nausea had me nearly doubled over with cramps and the desire to puke.
Mogr examined the blade, then licked his own blood from the length of one side. He chuckled, a laugh that suddenly bubbled into nausea of his own. I hobbled backward. Prayed desperately for the disease and poisoning to hit him hard, now, and give me the miraculous break I needed.
The ogre coughed his nausea away and strode toward me.
Uncanny Aim. I hurled my dagger along the silver thread right at Mogr’s right eye. The ogre simply swatted the dagger out of the air.
I staggered back. Light. I summoned a ball right before the ogre’s face, but he simply lunged forward and swallowed the spell, cheeks bulging out, then gulped it down.
My eyes went wide. He could do that?
What else? No weapons. No mana. No more tricks up my sleeve.
Mogr took a step forward, covering four yards in one go, and raised Falkon’s blade above his head.
A victorious shriek sundered the air and the wyvern fell upon us, a comet out of the morning sky. It slammed down into Mogr, wings furled, hitting the ogre with all the force and speed of a runaway train. The ogre was driven into the dirt with bone-snapping force, the wyvern’s talons shredding his shoulders where they dug in deep, its beak striking down again and again to tear huge gobbets of flesh from the ogre’s chest and neck.
I straightened out of my crouch, eyes wide.
Mogr wasn’t done yet. Dropping Falkon’s blade, he lunged up and closed his hand around the wyvern’s neck, twisting beneath its weight, and then slammed his other fist into the side of its head. The wyvern screamed and opened its wings, beating them powerfully and driving stinging clouds of dust in every direction. I backed away, arm raised to shield my eyes. And then, like the sun breaking free of the clouds, the nausea was gone.
I sprinted around the dueling titans to where my Death Dagger was embedded in the ground. The last ogre had gained the top of the wall and smashed the ballista – Lotharia was trapped between it and the wyvern’s tower, backing away slowly, scepter held before her.
I tore the Death Dagger free as the wyvern lifted Mogr some five yards off the ground then slammed him back down. The side of the wyvern’s crocodilian head was smeared with broken bones and loosened scales, its eye barely visible, but Mogr looked like he should be dead. Still he fought on, blood pooling beneath him, roaring his clotted bellows as he refused to give up.
I ran toward the wall, but Lotharia and the ogre were easily fifty feet above me. Too far. A mad plan hatched in my mind. I summoned my character sheet, scrolled down with a flick of my hand and tapped Expert Leaper.
Swiping my sheet away, I ran toward the small house beneath the pair of them—the same one I’d climbed to avoid the rats—and activated Expert Leaper just before I jumped.
I didn’t know what to expect, but found myself soaring up as if I’d hit a trampoline, high enough that I was able to hit the edge of the roof with my stomach and stab my Death Dagger into the tiles. It sank and stuck, and with a grunt I hauled myself up. A scream sounded from above. No time! I took a deep breath, crouched low, and then leapt straight up.
I must have soared some ten feet into the sky, and as I hit the apex I pressed my foot against the curtain wall and leapt back. Expert Leaper was still active, such that I suddenly propelled myself away from the wall into the air, the ogre up top sliding into view. I activated Uncanny Aim, targeting my silver thread at the back of the ogre’s head as it closed its hand over Lotharia’s arm. Not daring to think, not daring to hesitate, I hurled my Death Dagger with everything I had – and then started to fall.
Arms clawing at the sky, I activated Ledge Runner, but to no avail – there was nothing beneath me but packed dirt. I fell some twenty or thirty feet straight down, feet hitting first, momentum driving my body down into a savage crouch. A bone snapped – several bones – and everything began to slide away just as I hit Adrenaline Surge again.
Vigor flooded into me a mere second before the pain threatened to overwhelm my senses. Gasping, I straightened out on the ground, the fire in my veins trying to overwhelm the shock and agony. My left leg was bent the wrong way at the knee and shin. Something was profoundly wrong with my hips; everything felt loose and wet and hot down there, and bone had torn through the bicep of my right arm.
Adrenaline Surge raged through me, keeping the worst of it at bay, but I knew I was in dire straits. Gasping, I levered myself u
p onto my left arm in time to see the wyvern tear out Mogr’s throat. The ogre’s scream turned into a gurgle, blood spraying everywhere, and then he went limp.
I stared up at the wall. The other ogre had released Lotharia and stood, hands clawing at the back of its head where my Death Dagger had sunk in. Outrage and despair hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t believe it. How had it survived such a direct hit? Damn its being level thirty!
Lotharia called out a spell. At this distance I couldn’t make it out, but a hail of ice shards suddenly exploded around the ogre, slicing its hide and bouncing off its face and chest.
The ogre growled and reached back to close its fist around the hilt of my Death Dagger even as it turned away from the ice shards. Just then, however, it suffered a violent spasm; it contorted, bending over to vomit, and in doing so lost its balance atop the wall. It stepped back again, found nothing there to take its weight, and fell.
I watched, mouth open, as the vomiting ogre plummeted into the small house I’d leapt onto, punching right through the roof with a crash. A plume of dust erupted in its wake.
I let out a faint cheer of triumph as my XP chime sounded. If a Death Dagger to the back of the head didn’t kill an ogre, a headlong dive fifty feet into the ground seemed to have done the trick. And that was the last of them! The ogres were dead!
A small shape darted up to my side, and I startled before recognized a terrified Dribbler. “Here! Here! Drink this! Barfo special soup!”
I didn’t hesitate, but took the flask and drank from it. Barfo’s special soup burned as it went down, a whisky kind of burn that spread along my veins much like Adrenaline Surge.
Lotharia yelled something down at me. Her tone was urgent. She pointed, but the potion I’d drunk suddenly caused the pain to spike. I saw double, and then the bone of my broken arm slid back through the torn muscle and into place. My leg did the same, straightening out, waves of sheer, insane torment making me shake and gasp as I lay there.
Then the agony was gone, and while I still felt like crap, I could tell the worst had somehow been miraculously healed. Dribbler giggled, patted me on the head, then screamed and ran back in the direction of his tower.
Off to the side, the wyvern shrieked. It was hopping toward me. It stared at me from its remaining good eye.
“Oh, no,” I said, trying to stand. “No, no, no—”
The wyvern lunged toward me, beak open wide. I screamed, fell back, then a spear of black fire flashed down and impacted the side of its head, knocking it away.
I stared at the wall top. Lotharia stood there, spider staff extended. The wyvern let out a furious shrill cry and tried to stab at me once more, but again a bolt of black fire knocked it back.
No. There was no way I was going to let Lotharia destroy herself in an attempt to save me. Drawing my focus to a needlepoint, my emotions sluiced away as I focused furiously on my only chance at surviving. I summoned my character sheet even as I pushed away from the wyvern with my heels.
You have gained 360 experience (240 for defeating three ogres, 120 for defeating an ogre chieftain). You have 362 unused XP. Your total XP is 762.
Congratulations! You are Level 6!
Congratulations! You are Level 7!
Congratulations! You are Level 8!
There was no other word for what I felt: euphoria. I laughed, the sound half manic, and swiped the window away.
Before me, the wyvern opened its wings and bugled its fury up at Lotharia. Again she hit it with a spear of black fire, each blast melting its scales and opening up a savage wound. A fourth time, a fifth.
I skimmed the next window as quickly as I could.
Your attributes have increased!
Mana +3
Strength +2
Dexterity +2
Constitution +2
You have learned new skills. Climb: Basic (II), Athletics: Basic (IV), Dodge: Basic (III), Melee: Basic (II), Backstab: Basic (III)
The wyvern hopped away, opened its wings, and thrust itself up into the sky. Dust billowed everywhere and I was momentarily blinded. I stared up through my fingers up past my window. The wyvern was muscling its way up into the air.
There are new talent advancements available to you:
The four I knew: Distracting Attack, Darkvision, Wall Climber (I), and Bleeding Attack. A new one right below: Cat’s Fall. No time to read the details – I could guess what it meant.
There are three spells available to you:
Night Shroud, Ebon Tendrils (I), and Shared Darkness.
I felt drunk on the opportunities. My fingers flicked out as I tapped Shared Darkness, Night Shroud and Ebon Tendrils. I hesitated, then snapped up Distracting Attack and Bleeding Attack as well. Anything that might help save Lotharia from using the staff any further.
Lotharia was waiting to see if the wyvern was planning to fly away – no such luck. It rose to her level, fifty feet above the bailey, and then blared its defiance and hatred at her, huge wings buffeting her with gusts of air.
One last thing till I could join in the fight. I darted around Mogr’s still form, and over to where he’d been originally assaulted by the wyvern. The ground was torn and soaked with blood, but Falkon’s blade was easily visible. I snatched it up, eyed the swirling mana stone in its pommel, and glanced at my character sheet: my mana pool had risen from my three newly-gained points to a total of nine.
I stuck the blade in my belt and stared up at the wyvern. There couldn’t have been a more impossible match-up. Still, there was no way I was staying out of this fight. No way I would let Lotharia damn her soul. Taking a deep breath, I broke out into a run.
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I sprinted toward the rat house. Above me, the wyvern bellowed once more and lunged toward Lotharia, who backed away and met it with her own blast of black fire. I charged right into the doorway, running so fast I’d have slammed myself into the back wall if I didn’t have other plans.
Double Step took me up to the top of the goblin tower. I burst out into the familiar room, skidded as I fought my momentum, my boots fighting for traction on the smooth stone floor, and then I ran out the tower door onto the wall, right hand catching the doorframe to whip me around, over the edge and into the void.
Expert Leaper. Ledge Runner. Adrenaline Surge. I activated all three at once and launched myself off the wall, my legs suddenly as powerful and explosive as huge springs. The wind from the wyvern’s wings whirled perilously around me, and for a split second I was paralyzed by complete and utter terror at what I was doing. I arced out over the bailey floor far below, heading right toward the vast wyvern, which turned its serpentine neck to regard me as I sailed toward it.
Time slowed down. Sabotage Defenses. Distracting Attack. Bleeding Attack. I felt like I was mashing buttons, bringing up all my powers at once, and at the last moment I summoned my new favorite weapon: Death Dagger.
The blade coalesced in my palm, so cold it burned, and my body twisted just moments before I slammed into the wyvern’s side. My dagger punched through its scaly hide as if it were butter, sinking down to the hilt, and the wound was atrocious – blood gouted forth as if I’d slit the side of a wineskin, my weight and momentum causing the dagger to cut a ragged path down the wyvern’s flank, slicing open its armor and making the beast shriek with shock and pain.
Momentum can be a bitch. It carried me right down the side of the wyvern, dagger tearing free, and out past its tail. I was in the full glare of the morning sun. The bailey floor was far below me, but I knew it would come screaming up to meet me very, very quickly.
I wasn’t done, however.
I poured mana into my new spell, and summoned Night Shroud. The world around me immediately grew dim, the wyvern a shadowy form encased within my bubble of darkness. The wyvern was turning, trying to track me, its ungainly body making such agile aerial maneuv
ers a challenge.
But even though I could see through my own Night Shroud, I knew, could feel how inky dark my spell had made the air around me. I was encased in deepest shadow, and before I flew out the back of the hovering sphere of darkness, I completed my Double Step.
The shadows embraced me, held me tight, then released me on the far side of the wyvern who was still encased within my Shroud. Falling past its long neck that was turned in the other direction, I stabbed down with my Death Dagger. Sabotage Defenses, Distracting Attack, and Bleeding Attack were still in effect, and in that moment I finally realized the true power inherent in being a darkblade.
My Death Dagger cut a horrendous wound down the wyvern’s neck, causing it to spasm and contort in midair at the shocking pain. I didn’t wait, but started a new Double Step and disappeared just moments before it whipped around and snapped its jaws at where I’d been.
I appeared over its back, still falling at terminal velocity, and slid down its length, slicing it open as I went. Ledge Runner kicked in and my feet found purchase, the speed at which I was moving instantly forcing me into a full-out sprint as I raced down the wyvern’s spine, balancing with impossible grace as I leaned down to run the tip of my Dagger along the wyvern’s back.
The wyvern had had enough. With a great beat of its wings it lifted up into the sky, rolling over onto its back within the Shroud and facing me. I looked over my shoulder as it opened its maw, revealing a glittering core of copper-bronze flame coruscating in the depths of its gullet.
Oh shi—
I completed my Double Step just as its explosive breath engulfed me, a deluge of what looked like molten metal. The first flickering of agony touched my back and left elbow, but was then cooled by the shadows as I disappeared out of death’s way.
I emerged above the wyvern at the apex of my Night Shroud, and fell upon it as the last of its breath weapon uncurled into the sky, fading away and leaving a baking, arid heat in its wake. I fell upon the wyvern and once again slashed at its neck, opening its flesh to the bone.