Going Rogue (Spells, Swords, & Stealth Book 3)

by Drew Hayes

  They’d been spotted, which was bad. Worse by far, however, was the fact that Timuscor and Eric were still stuck out on the ledge.

  Chapter 45

  Fighting a dragon was like learning a spell or building a tavern—or so Grumph hoped. One couldn’t look at the complete task; it would utterly overwhelm anyone with a lick of sense. No, the key was to focus on one step at a time. Don’t try to build a basement, just do a few stairs. Don’t try to master the whole spell, work on the next word’s conjugation. Don’t worry about how to win an impossible fight, focus on staying alive for the next half-minute.

  The most immediate issues were twofold: Eric and Timuscor were still making their way across the ledge, and the enemy was flying while they were all on the ground. While Eric might have been able to dash across the remaining surface and lessen the first issue, Timuscor and Mr. Peppers made an exceptionally problematic road block, and they had to take their time. Falling now would make them helpless food on a rope—a rope which could too easily be burned away by dragon fire.

  There was nothing Grumph could do about that, so he turned his attention to the second issue. So long as the dragon was up high, they were at a severe disadvantage. Thistle’s new daggers and Eric’s crossbow were both fine additions to their ranged arsenal; however, as a group they were still far more suited to melee. If the dragon floated overhead, raining fire down upon them, there was almost zero chance they’d manage to defeat it.

  Grumph didn’t have much of a plan as he yanked his staff free and spun it around so that the canvas-covered top was pointing at the dragon; he had a single spell that he hoped would be enough. Already, the dragon’s maw was opening, aimed exactly for Thistle’s slight form. Unless Grumph’s eyes deceived him, there seemed to be a small scar on the top of its mouth. Well, that at least explained why it seemed to be taking aim at Thistle rather than the easier targets. Muttering the spell as quickly as he dared, Grumph lined up his shot, hoped he’d be faster on the draw than the dragon, and released the bolt of magical energy.

  The blue blast flew high and true, smashing into the creature’s right wing and immediately covering it with frost and ice. Clearly surprised, the dragon faltered, dropped tens of feet in seconds as it struggled to compensate with its good wing. For a moment, Grumph believed he’d succeeded against the odds and the dragon would plummet to the ground. However, dragons, even young ones, were not so easily brought down. Well before impact, the dragon recovered, using its right wing for stability as it tried to shake the ice free. Grumph began to cast once more, but his heart wasn’t in it. Even if the dragon wasn’t on guard, hitting the other wing would be nearly impossible. At the most, he could reinforce his original spell and limit the creature’s mobility.

  There was no yell of warning or fury, no scream to draw attention, not so much as a single sound aside from the slight cracking of rock. Grumph only saw her by chance as he lined up his next shot. Gabrielle moved like a blood-red phantom as she leapt from the cliff face, axe held high overhead, the rope still bound to the shaft. Either the dragon had been too focused on Thistle to notice her or simply hadn’t deemed her to be a threat. Whichever the reason was, it was a mistake. Gabrielle plummeted downward and drove her axe directly into the creature’s shoulder, just above its left wing.

  They fell together, the dragon rolling in midair to try and snap at Gabrielle, who held fast to her weapon and stayed just out of reach. There was barely time for them to spin around a single time before impact, which the dragon took on its right side. Despite the urgency, Grumph spared a moment to exchange a brief glance with Thistle.

  Gabrielle had managed to ground the dragon. If it got back in the air, they were done. No matter how hard the fight, no matter what it cost, they had to end this. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be another chance.

  Thistle’s daggers flew one after the other, some bouncing off the dragon’s thick scales while others sank into more vulnerable flesh before reappearing in his sheaths. With six daggers to work with, Thistle’s attack became an uninterrupted stream, picking at the creature one slice of flesh at a time.

  Despite the need to press the attack, Grumph stopped before charging in. Reaching up, he grabbed the canvas bag covering the top of his staff and yanked it away, revealing the final piece at last. Chipped, charred, and still crackling with small bolts of energy, Grumph’s demon-bone blade shone in the sunlight, seamlessly woven on his staff. Grumph didn’t know exactly what properties the object had anymore, and until he visited the mages’ guild there would be no way to find out, but he knew it had magic and could stab things. For a wizard on a limited budget, that was more than enough to suffice.

  By the time Grumph made it to the dragon, it had somewhat recovered and was on all four clawed feet. Gabrielle was still atop its back, hands wrapped firmly around her axe, no doubt waiting for the opportunity to pull her weapon free and strike again. The dragon turned to face Grumph and caught a dagger just below the eye a moment later. Whipping its scaly neck around, it looked back at Thistle, who only grinned and threw another set of blades. Grumph didn’t waste any more time, rushing in and thrusting the tip of his staff toward its neck. He managed to gouge a deep scratch in the red flesh, and although the whole neck seemed to spasm when his blade connected, the dragon immediately jerked away. Its frozen wing flapped and swung down at Grumph. Only the ice slowing it allowed him to dodge, and it was still by a mere matter of inches.

  Just as the dragon seemed determined to focus on Grumph, there was a wet noise from its back, then a small grunt of pain from its lips. Gabrielle had struck again, no doubt taking advantage of the momentary distraction. They were doing it; they were keeping the dragon just off balance enough to wear it down.

  The brief spark of hope Grumph felt lasted only until the dragon leapt several feet back. Grumph expected to be pulled along as it dragged the rope and axe, but for the first time, he noticed that the rope had been cut near the axe during the fight: probably one of Thistle’s daggers, its thrower having anticipated just such a possibility. While Grumph wanted to twist around and check on the others, it was a gesture he couldn’t afford. That red snout was open once more, and this time, Grumph was sure he saw the small wound on the top of its mouth. No question about it, this was personal.

  Thistle’s daggers flew quickly, frantically, but the dragon had angled itself away from the gnome as it built its inner inferno. Another sound of axe on flesh, and while the dragon winced, it didn’t lose focus. Their element of surprise was all used up. Now the dragon was intent on ending this fight—or, at the very least, reducing the number of opponents.

  The torrent of flames went toward Thistle first, who spun around and lowered his head, showing only an armored back to the dragon. He had a good shot at surviving; the armor guarding Thistle had already proven to be exceptionally tough. Grumph felt less sure about himself as the dragon’s turning head moved the spray of fire toward him. There was nothing to hide behind and nowhere to run, and none of Grumph’s spells were defensive. His only hope was to try and avoid as much of the spray as possible, and then down one of the healing potions if he survived the roasting.

  Grumph braced, ready to dart through the flames to minimize the burning, but the sound of clanking metal at his side caused him to hesitate. That, as it turned out, was a bit of fortune, because if Grumph had tried to run, he’d have careened right into Timuscor, who bolted two steps ahead of Grumph and fell into a crouch, shield raised and body tucked behind it.

  The blast of fire hit the shield dead on, and for an instant, Grumph was sure the fire would burn clear through both it and the knight. Then, too slowly, the flames faded and the dragon shut its mouth. Despite the metal glowing white hot, Timuscor’s shield still held, and as the knight slowly rose to his feet, he turned back to make sure Grumph was okay.

  “Words cannot express how thankful I am that I spent extra on the fire-warding,” Timuscor said, offering a weak, half-terrified smile.

  “Sound investment,” G
rumph replied. His eyes darted back to the ledge just in time to see Eric step onto solid ground. By the time he turned back, Timuscor had already pulled off the straps keeping Mr. Peppers on his back; the boar was standing dutifully by the knight’s side.

  Their whole group was finally present, and the dragon seemed to be stuck on the ground. They had a chance—not a great one, true—but still a chance. Grumph pointed the tip of his staff at the dragon and began to cast a new spell, even as Timuscor, Mr. Peppers, and Eric rushed forward. He couldn’t worry about what they were planning; Grumph just had to focus on his own next step. One piece at a time: that was how one learned a spell and built a tavern.

  And that would be how they killed a dragon.

  * * *

  Brutal barely captured it. They had been in truly brutal fights since the campaign started, ones where they survived by only a roll of the dice and the skin of their teeth. But those were always contained, small-scale encounters with clearly-defined opponents and goals. What they’d just seen was like nothing else, more akin to being on the front lines of a war than a mere battle. A half-dozen of the smaller dragons—almost certainly hatchlings— had appeared from the sky, and everyone had braced for what they assumed would be a tough fight.

  Then... the older pair of dragons had swept into view. They were almost double the size of the hatchlings, with burning eyes that seemed to take stock of every adventurer in the crowd with a single glance—one that left them unimpressed. Bad as they seemed at first, with their thicker scales, sharper claws, and hotter breath, the physical threats were nothing compared to the magic they cast.

  Torrents of rock burst from the ground. Walls of solid ice appeared from nothingness. Sudden blasts of destructive energy flew from any and all directions. The adventurers’ numbers— what should have been their greatest strength—became a liability as the dragons struck wherever concentrations of people gathered.

  In spite of the liability, the adventurers’ strength in numbers provided a boon as well. Barrages of arrows filled the air, followed by a snarling rainbow of spells, each chipping away at the majestic monsters bit by bit. Finally, one lost the use of its wings and was brought to the ground. The second tried to fly in and help, but its efforts only led to its being dragged down as well. Once they were on the ground, the tide of battle turned, and while there were more than a few dead adventurers around them, the older dragons were finally slain. With that done, the hatchlings fell soon after, and a cheer went up around the table.

  “You have successfully survived the battle,” Russell announced to his shocked players, more than a little surprised himself. “And in doing so, you all see the wards blocking your path flicker and crack, as the mages are able to take their time and break through. This new opening leads into a massive cavern with more than a dozen holes on the other side, all of them apparently leading deeper and higher into the mountain.”

  “Jesus, I think I need a cigarette after that.” Cheri leaned back in her chair, indulging a long, well-earned stretch. The fight had taken nearly two straight hours to play through with all of its components, and no one had dared leave the table for fear of missing a critical moment or detail in the ever-shifting landscape of their battle. “And I know Chalara needs a rest. The penalties for casting through the dragons’ wards are a bitch; plus, that drained her mana badly. If we press on from here, you’re going to have a violent cheerleader, not a sorceress. “

  “Gelthorn too lacks the mana to enchant her arrows, though she’d be glad to fling them through the eyes of any opponents as is, if the need arises,” Alexis declared.

  “I think we can all agree we need a rest. Timanuel can do some spot healing for those of us who are the worst off, but he doesn’t have much left for the day.”

  Bert observed the map carefully, taking only a brief glance at his character sheet. Wimberly had been quite useful in battle, but largely for her take on strategy and grouping more than her devices. Russell was impressed that Bert had managed to save so many resources; it was definitely a move that would pay off farther up the mountain.

  “Near as I can see, this area looks designed to rest in.” Bert tapped the vast space carefully, being sure not to move anyone’s figure on the map. “Honestly, that makes me wary about taking a break in it. But it’s not like we have much of a choice. The key is to make sure the discussion gets delayed until tomorrow.”

  “What discussion?” Tim asked.

  “He means whether or not the giant group will split up,” Cheri said. “Before, there was a big path and a few smaller ones, so staying with the herd made sense. Those entrances are smaller, meaning they’ll more likely accommodate a single party than an army. Since the module has been making the NPCs act with discretion and self-interest, they’ll probably discuss splitting up now.”

  “Which we should do regardless of how this plays out,” Bert added. “That last battle was too much, and it happened because we were such an unmissable target. On our own, we have a chance at slipping by some of the stronger dragons. But we don’t want people to move on just yet. The more of us that are here while we rest, the less chance of something taking us by surprise.”

  “Russell, I’m rolling a Charm check.” Alexis tossed her D20, which bounced along the map almost as quietly as her declaration had before landing on a sixteen. “That’s a twenty-one, total.”

  Before Russell or anyone else could ask why she was rolling the check, Alexis reached over and moved Gelthorn to the center of the cavern, then took a deep breath.

  “I know what you’re all wondering, for the same curiosity has overtaken me as well.” Her voice blared, even more powerful than Gelthorn’s usual strong tones, as if she really was addressing an entire cavern filled with adventurers. “What lies beyond these tunnels? Danger, almost certainly. Treasure too, of that we can be sure. Death, for some, though hopefully not for all. Yes, my friends, the same blood that burns in your veins, urging you to press on, to explore, to uncover the mystery, courses through my heart as well. Yet we must temper our passion with wisdom, for our enemies are wise themselves. We are strong, but not invincible. Any who need reminding of that need only look back at the battlefield, at the friends who will not continue with us. Let us not join them, not yet. Let us show prudence, working together once more to rest and recover properly. What comes next is plain as the gleam of a blade in moonlight, but it need not come just yet. Tonight, we sit together, we celebrate what we have done and mourn what we have lost. Tomorrow, when our mana is full and divine gifts are restored, we press on: stronger, smarter, and more ready to face whatever these creatures can throw at us.”

  No one said a word as the echoes of Alexis’s… no, Gelthorn’s voice faded from the dining room. Finally, Russell remembered that it was his job to determine how effective her speech had been. Glancing through the module, he found a table for this moment and rolled his own dice. Between the exceptional performance and her high Charm roll, Alexis’s gambit had no trouble convincing the bulk of the adventurers present to hold off on moving forward until they’d all had a chance to rest. There were still a few who slunk off—no check could have moved every soul—but by and large, she’d kept the army together for one final night.

  “Two groups peel away, saying they don’t need to rest. Everyone else nods along with Gelthorn, and some even clap softly,” Russell said. “It seems your words have settled the argument before it even began.”

  “Risky, but a smart move.” Bert held up his hand, and Alexis met it with a gentle high-five. “The fights, whichever ones we can’t avoid, will be a lot harder once we’re on our own. Putting that off for one night of rest will make a big difference.”

  “Maybe I should try to barter for an item that helps make me quieter,” Tim said. “Our chances are going to be heavily pinned on not being noticed. Can you imagine going through a fight like that last one on our own?”

  Cheri shook her head. “That would be an instant party-wipe. Honestly, for a group of our level, it wo
uld be a real nail-biter just to try and take on a single hatchling. Even Chalara is on board with as little fighting as possible, and if she’s willing to try stealth, then you know the situation is serious.”

  “Well, everyone, I suggest you find a place to set up camp and work out guard shifts,” Russell told them. “Get all the rest you can, because you can already hear people discussing which path to take in the morning. Pretty soon, you’ll be all by yourself, trying to make it up this mountain.”

  Chapter 46

  Part of guard training was called “danger assessment,” and it was one of the few areas Eric hadn’t been hopeless at. The general idea was to look at a threat and identify the most dangerous aspects of them. As a guard, he’d been expected to either put himself between those particular areas and the person he was protecting, or try and strike around them if he was attacking. For a goblin, the danger areas were the teeth and hands, the latter of which were almost always filled with some sort of makeshift weaponry. Anything roughly human-shaped fell into the same general parameters, though one did have to watch the feet of the more nimble fighters. Demons had proven a bit more complex, with their strange anatomies and deadly natural weapons. Beasts like the wolves they’d dealt with were simpler—mouth and claws were what had to be watched.

  Dragons, however, were composed almost entirely of danger areas. That was the conclusion Eric reached as he dove downward, barely avoiding the snap of its thick tail as it tried to crack his spine. A snout filled with sharp teeth, wings that could strike out to the sides and on its back, clawed legs that moved with unnatural grace, and a muscular tail that shattered almost anything in its path added up to a creature with no safe area to attack. Distance would have seemed smarter, if not for the damn fire. While he’d always had a healthy fear of them by reputation alone, fighting a dragon up close was giving Eric an appreciation for just how deadly these creatures really were.