by Drew Hayes
Unfortunately, as fast as Thistle worked, there was still a group he didn’t notice. That became clear as a cluster of five near the edge of the orchard began to pulse with a new light, this one as emerald green as the grass. Not ten seconds later, a second group did the same. Beneath each of them, the soft soil rose like a hill was forming on the spot. The growth continued rapidly until the hills began to reshape themselves into rudimentary figures. These creatures of grass and dirt whipped around to stare at Gabrielle and Eric, though they lacked anything even remotely resembling eyes.
“Soil golems!” Grumph yelled. No doubt it was meant as a warning, but since Thistle was the only one who recognized the name, it did Gabrielle and Eric little good.
Despite their unbalanced shapes and thick limbs, the soil golems rocketed across the orchard toward their targets. It was like they weren’t even walking, just skating along the ground as it carried them forth. One appeared before Eric, taking a mighty swing that made a loud thud as it landed harmlessly on the ground, Eric having nimbly dodged to the side and drawn his short sword. He darted in, slicing the creature across what would have been its chest, and then retreating only to realize his attack had left almost no effect. It was as though he’d cut dirt, and the soil golem seemed utterly unbothered by it. Eric pulled back further, nearly running into Gabrielle.
She was also under attack, but since she lacked Eric’s dexterity Gabrielle was just leaping backward, trying as hard as she could to stay out of the way. Her near-collision with Eric caused her to look away momentarily, and that was all the soil golem needed. Rearing back, it struck her with a blow to the torso that sent Gabrielle flying through the air before rolling to a slow stop. Eric tried to go after her but found he now had two soil golems to contend with.
Thistle watched, racking his brain for some solution. The tree sprites controlling the golems were too far away, and even if he could hit them, there were already more green glows filling the air. When escape had been on the table, it was the logical choice, but now that they were penned in, it seemed they were going to have to fight their way out. And that was a fight Thistle couldn’t shoulder on his own. Dangerous as it might be to reveal themselves, whatever threat was awaiting them would never get the chance to be an issue if they all died in this orchard.
Steeling himself, too aware that this decision might very well doom them all, Thistle gripped both his dangers and gave the signal.
“No more hiding. Fight with all you’ve got!”
* * *
The blow probably would have crushed her ribs, if not the organs beneath them, had it struck unprotected flesh. Gabrielle’s eyes fluttered open, noting the fresh ache in her chest where she’d been hit. She groaned in annoyance at the state of Grumph’s robes. As one might expect, soil golem attacks tend to come with a lot of showering dirt and grass stains, all of which made the garment look as though it had been used as a picnic blanket in an especially muddy clearing. She was going to have to get it washed as an apology, even if he insisted otherwise, but that was a concern for after they lived.
Gabrielle hopped to her feet, grabbed the robe’s fastenings, and pulled the garment open to reveal the demon-hide armor beneath. Eric had been up late modifying the fabric to hide her armor under it, but the blow it saved her from had proven the endeavor to be time well spent. Folding the robes over her arm, Gabrielle scanned the area and quickly found Grumph, who was sending a blast of fire magic at the nearest cluster of green-glowing tree sprites. No sooner had the magical flames hit, sending the wailing sprites off in all directions, than one of the soil golems attacking Eric fell to the ground as nothing more than lifeless dirt. Though she probably wouldn’t be able to use it, the knowledge that the tree sprites were the weak point was still good to know.
“Grumph! Let’s trade.” Gabrielle raced over to the half-orc, her movements no longer restricted by the robes, and tossed him the dirty clump of cloth. As soon as her hands were free, she began to unsheathe the axe strapped to Grumph’s back. It burned to touch just as it always had, but it was a familiar pain that she almost welcomed. No matter how much the axe hurt her, she knew it would cause those she turned it against a far greater deal of agony.
Whirling around, her eyes locked on the remaining soil golem that was swinging for Eric. Though more sprites were starting to glow, they still had a window of opportunity. If she could draw the golem’s attention, the others might succeed in slipping out of the orchard before more dirt-monsters rose up to stop them. Her axe likely wouldn’t be much more effective than Eric’s short sword, but her armor could certainly take a hit better if it had to. Besides which, she was the barbarian; he was the rogue. It was her job to take the opponents head-on, and she’d be damned if she let Eric try to steal her role.
Letting out a savage yell, Gabrielle raced toward the golem. Although she could feel her rage bubbling inside, swelling as it begged to be let forth, she kept the anger at bay. Giving in to fury made her strong, but it also made her dumb. All she could see was battle; all she understood was driving her weapon into an enemy’s flesh. That certainly had its place, and perhaps it would even be useful in this orchard. She just wasn’t ready to surrender her faculties yet, not with an unknown threat still lurking somewhere in the woods.
Despite her scream, the soil golem paid her no attention as she closed the gap between them, choosing instead to keep swinging at the nimbly dodging Eric. Never one to waste a good opportunity, Gabrielle reared back and swung with all she could, trying to part the half-formed head from the lumps of dirt serving as its torso. Her aim was good, but at the last moment, the golem shifted slightly, and her axe went into its back rather than clipping off its head. This blow had far more force than Eric had managed, and it sent her weapon deep into the clumps of soil, burying half of the axe’s head completely out of view. Unfortunately, that was all it seemed to do, as the soil golem continued attacking Eric, unbothered by the weapon sticking out of its back or the barbarian holding on to it.
Gabrielle yanked on her axe, determined not to miss the head with the next strike. But to her horror, the axe stayed wedged in place, the power of her blow having wedged it in too deep. She pulled more frantically, keenly aware of just how exposed she was. Another pull and still no progress. Another, and this time only the littlest bit of a wiggle. It was maddening work, all the more so because she could see the ground around them moving as more soil golems began to take shape. They’d had a small window of opportunity, and now it looked like getting her damn axe stuck had cost them their chance at a quick escape. Frustration and desperation built on top of each other, and Gabrielle’s carefully-controlled anger began to leak out as she gave another furious pull on her axe.
This time, she was sure she felt her axe’s burn increase. It was only for a moment, but she was certain. It was a good thing she noticed, too, because what happened next would have driven all such details from her mind.
Rather than simply coming free, the axe burst forth from the soil golem’s back, spraying dirt all over the orchard and leaving little more than a pair of stumpy legs where the creature had once been. With nothing between them, Gabrielle was able to see the confusion, and perhaps fear, on Eric’s face as he watched the rest of the soil golem disintegrate.
“That couldn’t have been all strength. How did you do that?” Eric asked.
Gabrielle shrugged as she pulled her weapon in close. Obviously, she knew it was the axe, but that didn’t mean she had any idea how it had pulled off such a feat or how to replicate it. “No idea, honestly. Magic weapon, I guess.”
“Well, let’s hope that’s not all the magic it’s got.” Eric pointed behind her, and as Gabrielle turned, she felt her stomach drop.
Timuscor, Mr. Peppers, Grumph, and Thistle were all bunched together as they braced for assault from a near-dozen more soil golems. Grumph had used a spell to call forth his golden weapon of light and had turned it into an anchor on a rope, just like in the mage trials. Only this time, instead of tr
ying to hook ruins, Grumph was swinging it around and aiming for the clusters of tree sprites flitting around above his head. Thistle too was attacking, flinging his daggers at every grouping even remotely nearby. He managed to clip one of them, and a soil golem fell, but the others were all moving farther and farther out of reach. Soon, even his best throw wouldn’t be enough. Timuscor had chosen to focus on melee and defense, planting himself firmly in front of Grumph and Thistle with his shield raised and his sword drawn. At his side, Mr. Peppers stood stalwart, tusks at the ready to do what little he could when the golems reached them.
“This is dragonshit. There has to be a way to stop those golems,” Gabrielle muttered.
“Dire as the soil golem situation is, I was actually pointing to that,” Eric said, thrusting his finger higher, over the heads of the rest of their friends.
Up in the sky was the largest cluster of tree sprites Gabrielle had yet seen. There were dozens of them, all twinkling together, and while they hadn’t begun to glow yet, there were occasional flashes of color rippling across them. This wasn’t the emerald green of the lush grass either. It was red: a crimson as deep and dark as spilled blood.
Which was, Gabrielle had to assume, probably not a good sign.
Chapter 9
Had she planned this out as a training exercise for the rookies, the elf could hardly have crafted a situation where things went to hell faster. In the span of less than a minute, she’d both gotten confirmation that these were indeed her targets and also seen them get into an almost-certainly deadly situation. If only the king hadn’t specified the need to keep some alive, she could have sat back and let the tree sprites do the hard part for her. But no, if she wanted to collect that ridiculous sum of gold, then at least a couple of these adventurers had to live. And that meant doing something that made her skin crawl—lending aid to those in need.
Dashing across the forest floor as though it were as steady as a stone road, she crossed into the orchard with a raised crossbow in one hand and a set of throwing daggers in the other. She hurled the daggers—far sleeker and thinner than the ones the gnome was using—through the air, catching a cluster of tree sprites by surprise. Lifting her crossbow, she spared a few moments to line up her shot and fired. The bolt soared through the air, knocking apart one cluster and then continuing on to hit a second. In only a few seconds, three of the soil golems had dropped back to the ground where they stayed as nothing more than dirt. Smacking her crossbow’s lever to quickly load a new bolt, she surveyed the battlefield.
Thanks to her help, the group was beginning to get its bearings. The woman in red had already smashed through another golem. If the elf pressed the attack, they’d manage to get free without issue. The elf couldn’t just save them, though. If she did, then as soon as the sprite problem was dealt with, she’d have a full group of adventurers to contend with. She’d certainly seen tougher warriors in her day, but they were fighting with a desperate passion one rarely encountered in adventurers. It was a fight she could probably still win; however, being a good shadow meant not undertaking those sorts of uncertain battles in the first place. Instead, she’d lean on the old tried-and-true hostage tactic. Close as they all seemed, if she could poison one of them, the rest would do as she demanded to get the antidote, even if it meant they were marching toward their own death.
The elf dug into the sheath at her side, grabbing another dagger and aiming the crossbow. Again, the dagger whistled through the air; her position allowed the elf to easily clip groups too far away for the gnome to reach. Her crossbow, however, was set at a lower angle than before. Taking careful aim, she picked the biggest target without armor that she could find and fired. They’d had time to notice her by now; the party likely thought she was just a helpful passerby jumping in to lend aid. They’d never be expecting an attack from someone who had started off aiding them. So long as her aim was true, which it almost always was, the bolt would easily find its home and she’d have her hostage.
Though the attack sailed perfectly across the battlefield, on course with the half-orc’s unarmored torso, a sudden shift in movement put gleaming metal in front of it. The crossbow bolt hit the material with an audible ding and then fell uselessly to the ground. The knight had taken the attack. No, he’d been waiting for the attack. Now that she was looking at them properly, the elf could see the steady caution in their eyes as they watched her. She hadn’t fooled them in the slightest, and none of them were the least bit surprised.
They’d known she was coming. Known she was there. That should have been impossible. But, dented as it momentarily was, the elf’s pride didn’t prevent her from seeing the obvious truth. It was a development which might complicate things in the long term, as one of them was clearly more perceptive than she’d realized, but for the moment, it changed nothing. She had to keep them safe from the tree sprites while also managing to poison at least one. This just meant the job might be a touch more difficult than she’d expected.
Quickly hitting the lever to reload, she took stock of the situation. Her attacks had dropped enough soil golems to give the party a bit of breathing room, and they were using it to move closer to the clusters of sprites that had been out of reach. A few more shots and the elf could have easily ended the threat, but she was down to three bolts in her crossbow and reloading was obviously off the table. While she had other poison-based options, none were as convenient or strategically sound as attacking from a distance. Since the group seemed to be turning the tides against the sprites, she decided to attack while the golems still provided her cover.
Since the knight was guarding the half-orc, she changed targets. The barbarian was too well-armored, and she’d seen the way the man in the veilpanther armor could dodge. Luckily, she still had a gnome to attack, and a hobbled one with no armor at that. He’d even done her the service of getting a bit of distance from the group as he threw his blades—ones clearly meant for hand-to-hand combat rather than tossing—at the tree sprites. Twisting about to reorient her aim, the elf lined up another shot.
Footsteps on grass were all the warning she got, but it was still more than enough. Firing off her bolt, the elf jerked toward the sound without even waiting to see if she’d made contact. Rapidly approaching—running, really—the barbarian woman hurtled across the orchard with her axe raised high. The elf had seen how hard that axe could be swung, so she quickly switched from offense to defense, taking a step back and readying for the attack.
It was a solid strike, backed by training and determination as the weapon whistled uselessly through the air. Although she preferred to avoid melee engagement whenever possible, the elf had long ago learned the importance of being able to handle oneself in any situation, which was why her movements seemed effortless as she stepped out of the way of one attack after the other. Still, this was dangerous. If even one of those attacks landed, it could do serious damage, crippling her mobility and leaving her at their mercy. But pulling her daggers meant getting in close to the red-armored woman, and the elf had no desire to make such a risky move. Instead, she used her free hand to pluck a vial from one of the many pockets in her outfit and hurled it to the ground.
The sudden rush of purple gas took the barbarian by surprise. She began to cough and choke in the middle of the cloud. As for the elf, she’d held her breath and used the chance to dart away while her enemy was distracted. If only the gas was poison; the battle would more or less be over. However, the dangers of throwing poison gas in proximity to oneself far outweighed the gains. Instead, the purple fog would only slow the barbarian, leaving her lightheaded and perhaps a bit daft for several minutes. By then, there would be nothing her axe could do.
A whistle through the air caught the elf’s attention. On instinct, she whirled her cloak, barely knocking aside the dagger that had been flung at her. If not for her cloak’s wards and reinforced material, she might still have been pierced, but as it was the dagger clattered uselessly to the ground before vanishing back to the gnome’s side
.
Finally able to see the battlefield after the barbarian’s attack, the elf realized that the adventurers had almost succeeded in eliminating the remaining soil golems. That was bad news, as it meant they’d soon be free to focus on her. However, her eyes also caught the small wound on the gnome’s shoulder, a perfect slice along the shirt and skin. No soil golem could make an injury so precise, which could only mean her bolt had grazed him. Given how potent a poison she’d used, a graze was more than enough to incapacitate such a small creature. She smiled, raising her free hand in the air to call for a halt in the battle.
“While it might seem as though we’re still fighting, the truth is that I’ve already won. You see—”
A bursting noise from the ground drowned out the rest of her words. Thick red roots tore upward, completely surrounding the elf before she had a chance to move. She leapt upward, determined not to be caught in some damn sprite cage, but the roots converged around her, intertwining and tightening even as she went higher into the air. As she was turned about, the elf got a glance into the sky, where dozens of sprites were glowing the same dark red as the roots around her. What was even worse, though, was that she was getting higher even as the roots wove themselves into a form that was both familiar and terrifying.
They were forming a hand, and she was trapped right in the cursed thing’s grip.