by Max Anthony
The arrival of the transformed Rasmus almost produced a fatal error in Jera’s rhythm as she dodged and parried the Baron’s attacks. The wizard looked like some sort of wild mountain giant, with madly staring eyes and lips pulled back in a snarl. As she watched in a state of near-awe, Rasmus picked up the werewolf by its rear leg and hurled it bodily against a wall, fifteen feet away. It impacted with a crunch and slid down, instantly finding its feet and springing at the wizard.
“I thought I told you to sit!” Jera shouted at it. The werewolf heard her taunt, yet it badly wanted to attack the giant which had just smashed it off a wall. After a split second, the gargantuan changed direction with a scrabble of its claws and headed towards Jera. The things I have to do, she thought to herself grimly.
Having stabbed the werewolf once, Viddo held back, not sure that it was time to do some real damage yet. He could see Jera as she danced her dance, feinting and spinning as though she was alone on the training ground. Viddo wasn’t fooled – Baron Valps was an expert swordsman and he would eventually see the flaws in the patterns of her defence. Even now, he caught her a glancing blow against her breastplate, the point of his sword skating past, but leaving her armour unmarked. Once the second of the werewolves re-joined the attack, Jera found her job much more difficult than facing a mere two opponents.
Viddo tried out a second backstab and once more his dagger sent an extra stab into the Baron. Without warning, Baron Valps turned and executed a swift, downward swing with his sword, aimed directly at Viddo’s head. The thief hurled himself aside in desperation, only just escaping death. The Baron spun back to Jera and resumed his attacks.
The transformed Rasmus was not deprived entirely of conscious thought - only mostly. The cumulative effects of his spell and the berserker potion conspired to make it even harder for him to make wise decisions when it came to his combat target. Consequently, he again attacked the werewolf that he’d recently thrown against the wall, by landing a left-right combination against its head. It was like striking a tree stump, but the transformed Rasmus didn’t care. All he wanted to do was to destroy his enemies. Unfortunately, the gargantuan versions of a creature were always far more resilient than the originals and this one broke away from its attempts to kill Jera, in order to destroy its tormentor. Rasmus thundered in another punch, smashing the creature across the floor until it came to rest in a corner.
“Heel!” shouted Jera, feeling stupidly foolish for doing so. This time, the werewolf didn’t even look at her and it sprang for Rasmus. She had only just enough time to see werewolf and wizard grapple before the dictates of her circumstances forced her to concentrate on her own opponents.
Viddo noticed that Rasmus had greatly annoyed one of the werewolves and as wizard and beast grappled, the thief rolled nimbly over to them and treated the werewolf to a couple of backstabs. This wasn’t as easy as he’d imagined, with the two of them rolling backwards and forwards, growling as each struggled to impose itself on the other. It was looking fairly evenly matched. The trouble was, the werewolf had long, sharp claws, whilst Rasmus only had his fists and his berserk rage. The wizard landed punch after punch, but his own body was soon a mess of lacerations, where the werewolf had clawed and scratched him. Viddo opened up a bit more, landing another three quick backstabs and marvelling anew at the stamina of his opponent, since it hardly flinched when the blows landed.
The inner Rasmus decided he’d taken enough punishment. The transformation spell gave his body the ability to withstand a good beating, but he felt as if the werewolf had clawed away at him enough to wipe out the additional magical fortitude his magic had granted him. Rasmus didn’t like the idea of bleeding to death when he resumed his usual form, so he took matters into his own hands. He landed two heavy punches onto the werewolf’s snout and then surprised it by picking it up and throwing it towards Baron Valps. Free from the attacks of its claws, Rasmus shrank rapidly, resuming his normal size and form. The werewolf was not to be dissuaded and it charged after the wizard, only to discover that the wizard in question was capable of running fast enough to easily stay out of reach. Rasmus was wearing a pair of boots of speed, which he could call upon infrequently to save his hide. With the werewolf chasing Rasmus, Viddo chased the werewolf, stabbing it frequently when he got close enough.
In the centre of the room, Jera admitted to herself that she was tiring. The second gargantuan werewolf was a mess of nicks and cuts from her axe, though nothing that would greatly trouble it. Baron Valps’ armour was covered in dings and scratches, but as far as Jera could tell, she’d not once landed a blow on his skin. The blood-gem at his neck glowed with the same vigour as it had when she had first engaged him and his mouth wore a smirk that looked suspiciously like one of triumph. He struck her again, his blade clattering against her shield, whilst his plate-booted foot kicked at her and caught her in the side of the knee. Jera grimaced at the pain and struck back with her axe, at the same time using her shield to parry a clawed hand which was coming for her face.
Rasmus and Viddo could see that Jera was struggling, but their hands were tied trying to kill the werewolf that chased the wizard. All they could do was hope that Jera could last long enough for them to assist her. The speed boost imparted by Rasmus’ boots didn’t last long and on the fourth circuit of the room it expired, rather sooner than the wizard had hoped or expected. In desperation, the wizard triggered his cloak of mirroring, finding to his disgust that only a single illusory copy of himself appeared, instead of the maximum five copies that the magic could produce if it chose to. The werewolf caught up, swinging a claw through the copy of Rasmus and causing the illusion to wink out of existence. All the while, Viddo stabbed furiously, hoping to draw the werewolf’s attention – it wasn’t going to be enough.
Jera came, executing a perfectly-timed battle charge across the room, the power of which ignored the injury to her knee, and left her own two opponents behind her. She collided shield-first with the werewolf and, in spite of its far greater mass, knocked it from its feet.
“Get over here, you moth-eaten rug!” she bellowed at it. To Viddo’s shock and Rasmus’ relief, the werewolf complied, hauling itself onto its hind legs and following Jera as she backed away towards her other two opponents who were rapidly closing in on her new position. She was limping and looked exhausted. Facing three foes once again, Jera called upon the final talent that might preserve her life.
“Come on!” she shouted. It wasn’t clear to whom she aimed this call. Baron Valps and the two werewolves attacked her regardless, one of the latter badly injured from Viddo’s strikes. Rather than try and dodge the attacks with her damaged leg, she stood firm, moving her shield smoothly and with an unnatural rapidity as she blocked every incoming strike without apparent effort. Behind the visor of her helmet, she had a look of deep serenity.
Fighter’s bulwark, Viddo knew, sprinting to her aid. Even the very best warriors couldn’t maintain the concentration necessary to remain in this state for long. The thief leapt, both daggers high and called upon his ring of explosive backstabbing. I hope they stack, he thought, plunging one dagger into the first werewolf’s back and the second into the spine of the other. Two additional copies of the blades flickered briefly into being, produced by the power of his blade dancing trousers. These phantasmal blades sank through the armour protecting the Baron’s back. There was the sound of four muffled explosions, heavy, deep and thumping. The most injured of the two werewolves was torn apart, showering its glistening innards into the farthest corners of the room. Viddo and Jera somehow managed to avoid the worst of it, but Rasmus, ten feet away, found himself thoroughly soiled by intestine juices, chunks of liver, and a bloody kidney. A ruptured stomach sac landed at his feet, steaming gently.
In the midst of the combat, Viddo noted with satisfaction that the second werewolf had staggered to one side, whilst chunks of red flesh dribbled out of a wide hole in its side. Baron Valps arched his back when the two heavy detonations took place within the conf
ines of his body cavity. The light of his blood gem diminished as it channelled its reservoirs of power into keeping the Baron alive. Viddo stabbed again, gleefully aghast at how much his new daggers had magnified the explosive powers of the ring. The magical band’s powers were drained again for the moment, so this next stab had only a fraction of the power. Even so, his pantaloons doubled the strike, landing a blade into both werewolf and Baron. Valps turned and swung at Viddo in the same way as he had done earlier. This time the thief was ready and he evaded the two-handed sword, aware that one of these random strikes from the Baron might eventually kill him.
Close by, Rasmus was watching. He had his new mace ready but he’d seen these additional strikes which the Baron aimed at those close by. Viddo was equipped to deal with them – Rasmus certainly was not, so he stayed back. He let fly with two volleys of arcane balls, which swirled and spun as they cascaded into Baron Valps. The wizard looked on as Viddo stabbed the remaining werewolf twice more, resulting in it keeling over onto the floor. The Baron received additional injuries each time and Rasmus saw their opponent give a shake of his head, as if to clear it.
All throughout, blows rained down onto Jera and she stood staunchly against them. Her shield was struck time and again – it would have shattered long ago had it not been made by one of the finest magical smiths in the known world. It was scraped and scarred, though no dent showed on its surface. There was only so much the shield could do and the magic relied on the wielder having expertise. When Jera felt her concentration lapse, the state of her fighter’s bulwark ended and the movements of her shield slowed. The pain in her knee returned, flaring up in sudden agony. Above, the Baron loomed, implacable in his desire to see her killed, his sword held aloft as he prepared a killing blow. Without warning, the redness of his eyes was replaced by a yellowy whiteness. His blade descended wide of its mark, missing Jera by a whisker.
Jera used the opportunity to get to her feet and she backed away slowly as she tried to rally her thoughts. A few feet away, the Baron continued to growl as he flailed away, his attacks now directionless. Behind him, Viddo continued to attack, landing a brace of double-strikes through the heavily-punctured black armour. Each time he was injured, the Baron wheeled around, swinging his sword in the direction the wounds had come from. Viddo was too wily to be caught so easily and he sidestepped silently, avoiding the wild attacks.
Rasmus approached, brandishing his mace. The wizard was brave, yet after evaluating the situation he decided he wasn’t stupid or skilled enough to get within the Baron’s guard in order to land a few blows with his mace. He came over to Jera and put an arm around her, letting himself bear some of her weight.
“A spell of blindness,” he said by way of explanation. “The last of my good ones. It only works against opponents who have been sufficiently weakened.”
Hearing the voices, Baron Valps lurched towards them, his sword swings desperate now. At his throat, the blood-gem’s glow was faint – more a pink than a deep red. Rasmus helped Jera as they limped away, the wizard feeling guilty that his chattering had resulted in his friend suffering more pain from her injury. The Baron didn’t reach his intended victims. Just as the spell of blindness expired, Viddo landed a particularly excruciating double-backstab into his opponent’s kidneys. The light from the blood-gem winked out and the Baron crashed onto the ground.
With all seemingly in order, Viddo went through the time-honoured tradition of visiting each corpse in turn and stabbing them viciously to ensure they weren’t playing dead with intentions of popping up at an inopportune moment. At last, satisfied that there’d be no surprises, he came to Rasmus and Jera. He brushed the wizard aside and gave Jera a hug.
“That was amazing!” he told her. “Goosty would be proud!”
“What about my hug?” asked Rasmus, approaching Viddo with his arms wide.
“You’re not getting a hug. You’ve seen it all before.”
“Harrumph,” said Rasmus, clearly pleased anyway.
“Your bits are nearly showing,” Viddo told him, pointing at the wizard’s shredded robes.
“Nearly showing and actually showing are two entirely different things,” said Rasmus, nevertheless tugging things into a semblance of order. “And shouldn’t you be searching through our opponent’s belongings?”
Viddo didn’t need to be asked twice and set to the task of pulling the Baron out of his armour, cutting through leather straps in order to make things easier. “Well, well. Can anyone tell me why a gentleman would want to carry around a pouch like this within his tunic?” he asked eventually.
“What is it?” asked Jera.
“More gems to add to our haul from the lich whom I pick-pocketed. Good ones too.”
“Anything else?” asked Rasmus.
“I think there’s a necklace in the pouch as well.”
“Do you have one of your teleport spells to carry us to safety?” asked Jera. “My knee is really sore and I don’t want to limp all the way back the way we came.”
“I’m afraid that for once, I have nothing to offer,” said Rasmus.
“Balls!” said Jera, surprising both men with the earthiness of her utterance.
23
Several hours later, three exhausted adventurers stumbled up to the door of a tavern they knew reasonably well. The proprietor of The Grumpy Wizard was at first alarmed when he heard the beating upon his door, especially given the early hour. His alarm turned to happiness when he discovered Rasmus, Viddo and Jera at his doorstep, making demands for ale, fresh food and lodgings in that precise order.
Minutes later, the trio were slumped at a table, alone in the main room of the tavern. Three empty mugs were on the table, with three more half-full ones accompanying them.
“What now?” asked Jera. She felt unbearably tired, but her mind was also buzzing with the excitement of their escape from the castle.
“You’ll not be walking to Trilbus until your knee has healed. It looks like it’s got at least a week to go until it’s better.”
“We’re not in any particular hurry, are we?” asked Viddo. “Your friend Spanky Wadslow’s shop is nearby if you wish to buy a few more of his overpriced and underpowered spells.”
“I’m sure I can pay him a visit while we’re here,” said Rasmus.
“Are we going to tell the villagers that we’ve found and then killed the Baron?” asked Jera.
“Goodness no!” exclaimed the wizard. “Let them find out for themselves. I can’t be bothered with a load of strangers wanting to thank me and shake my hand. Far better that some charlatan takes the credit for it so that I can get some peace.”
Viddo and Jera both shook their heads at these words. “He wasn’t always an anti-social clot,” said Viddo fondly.
“I no longer crave the limelight,” said Rasmus with the hint of a smile.
Their food arrived in the form of pies, bacon and a foot-long section of blood sausage. As they ate, they talked at length about nothing in particular, as if their recent adventure had been of little note. Jera was pleased to find that she was now, without doubt, an equal member of the partnership, whilst Rasmus and Viddo were equally happy with the new friend they had found.
“To the future,” said Rasmus at last, raising his cup.
The toast was met, several more toasts were raised and eventually they slept, the well-deserving sleep of those who had fought evil and triumphed.
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