Limitless Lands Book 4: Opposition (A LitRPG Adventure)

by Henegar, Dean

  “Blood and Ruin!” the berserkers shouted as they clambered over the barricade to slam into the enemy. A red haze grew over their bodies as they were overcome by rage, their greataxes a whirl of death. Wrend tried in futility to order them back to the barricade, the enraged Drebix ignoring his calls.

  The fury of the berserkers’ onslaught relieved pressure on the last standing ogre, the giant creature roaring in pain and anger at his enemies. The ogre threw his shield at a reaver, pulping the attacker before taking a two-handed grip on his sword, swinging into the mass of enemies even as the last of his lifeblood drained to the ground below.

  Even the berserkers’ fury and an ogre’s rampage couldn’t stop the flood of reavers and elves flowing into the gate. Wrend and the last few raiders stood their ground behind the makeshift barricade, ready to fight to the last.

  The chanting shaman walked next to him, pointing at the charging enemy who had just cut down the last berserker. A pair of wooden totems adorned with images and feathers shot up from the ground. They glowed red and began to spit forth balls of fire at random enemies in range, causing chaos in the enemies’ forces.

  “I heal troops, I smite the enemy with the elements, and now I shall fulfill my purpose,” the strange shaman said to Wrend. He drew a pair of hand axes and climbed over the barricade, charging. The remaining raiders followed their spiritual leader into the mass of enemy. In moments, they were lost in the press of battle even as the enemy began to hammer its way through the barricade.

  Two glowing runes flew over Wrend’s head, headed toward the forces hacking at the barricade; the runesmiths had arrived. Spikes of earth shot forth from the ground, impaling the attackers. The runesmiths weren’t done yet, though, hurling another pair farther into the crowd. Two earth elementals rose from the ground and began to attack. A second volley of earth elementals was summoned when Wrend heard a meaty thwack . He turned to see one of the runesmiths drop, an arrow through his eye.

  A pair of reavers clambered over the barricade, and Wrend thrust into one just as he landed on Wrend’s side of the obstacle. The foe stumbled back, right into the axe of the remaining runesmith. Wrend and the runesmith continued their frenzied defense. When the runesmith finally threw his last explosive rune directly at one of the rickety towers, Wrend nearly throttled the man. The rune exploded, blasting several elves who were even now climbing up the tower. Then the tower creaked and began to fall.

  Wrend was about to shout a curse at the runesmith before he looked closer; the elves had already made it up the tower and killed the scorpion crew housed in it. The tower crashed into the second one, pushing it over as well. The crew in the second tower was nowhere to be seen, no doubt having met the same fate as their brothers in the first tower.

  With a crunch of wood, the towers came down into the melee, damaging both friend and foe. One elemental turned to dust as part of the tower landed on it, but there were far more elves and reavers crushed than friends. The catapult crews arrived then to help fend off the last of the reavers that had clambered over the barricade, their massive engines useless in this crush. The runesmith had done his work well, the fallen towers blocking the gateway.

  Reavers began to hack at the new obstacle, trying to clear a path to Wrend and the few remaining defenders. This was it . . . This was his last stand. Wrend had failed to defend the Point, but the gods as his witnesses, he had bled the enemy and would kill even more before it was over.

  A series of horn blasts sounded in the distance. The remaining enemies gave up their attempts to hack through the fallen towers and ran back to the Ikbose lines. The few remaining scouts on the walls continued to fire at the retreating foe until the last had made it out of range.

  “Why did they call the attack off? They almost had us,” Wrend said to the engineer next to him.

  “Inside here, we saw the impending defeat, Sergeant, but the leaders outside only saw that .” The engineer pointed to the mound of dead clogging up the Point’s gateway. Wrend nodded; looking from outside, the Ikbose leaders would have seen what appeared to be a massacre of their own forces. Even now, the last few foes remaining inside the walls tried to clamber over their dead allies to make their escape. The Ikbose leaders didn’t realize just how close they had come to taking the Point from the legion this day.

  “What are you all waiting for? Get to work. I want the gateway plugged up and these bodies cleared from inside the Point,” Wrend called to the weary defenders. The battle had gone on for longer than he thought; the sun was getting ready to set in the east. A desperate thirst hit him, and he reached for his canteen. It was empty. When had that happened? He didn’t recall drinking it, but that was common in a long fight. He made his way to the well, desperate for some of the cool water within.

  Chilly water cut through the dust of the battlefield as Wrend drank, his throat stinging a little still where the arrow had hit him earlier. That scar would be yet another souvenir of his time in the legion.

  “Sergeant, what should we do with our dead?” a soldier asked.

  “We don’t need fancy burials and we don’t have time. Let our own dead serve the legion in one last task,” Wrend ordered. The soldiers obeyed, albeit with some trepidation as they stacked the bodies of friend and foe into the gateway, plugging the breach with them. Wrend did order the six ogres to be separated and buried near the barracks. The task was a grueling one for such large soldiers, but they deserved it. Without them, the Point would surely have fallen.

  Once the graves for the ogres had been filled, Wrend took off his helm to say a few words to the soldiers gathered around him.

  “I’m no fancy speech-giver, but by the gods, these ogres could fight. It was good to have them by our side this day and I tell whatever deity they served that these soldiers did their duty and have regained their honor. If the gods don’t agree, then they can come speak with me and my blade directly.” With that, Wrend thrust a greatsword into the ground at the head of each grave and placed their helms atop the sword hilts. Then his duty settled back on his shoulders and he turned, walking away to organize the remnants of his command.

  It was dark by the time the soldiers defending the Point had completed their gruesome work. The destroyed gates were now replaced by a barrier of the dead, soldiers and enemies alike now contributing to the defense.

  “What are your plans for tomorrow? I’ll craft the runes based on what you want to do,” the sole remaining runesmith offered. Wrend leaned against the battlements, thinking before responding. They had won today, but the cost of the battle was too high. Out of the 110 soldiers that started the fight today, only 52 remained. Half the scouts were gone and all the Drebix, save for a handful of skirmishers, were gone. Of his siege equipment, he had only the catapult crews; the scorpions, along with their crews, were gone.

  He would have to craft a defense for a three-hundred-yard-long wall with a breached gate, having only a fraction of the forces he had started the day with. Granted, the enemy had been bled even worse than his men, but the Ikbose forces still had more than enough numbers to sweep them away tomorrow.

  “I don’t know what to do, to be honest with you. If we try and hold the wall, they just overrun us,” Wrend offered.

  “What about the barracks? We can make that a strong point and hold them at bay all day tomorrow,” the engineer offered. Wrend thought the plan was tantamount to admitting defeat, but there was no other option.

  “As much as I hate it, we’ll have to do it. Have the men reinforce the barracks as much as they can. Is there anything you can do? Anything to keep them from just burning us out?” Wrend asked. If he was the one leading the attackers, he would just set the barracks on fire, easily killing the defenders.

  “These buildings are wood, but we can soak them down all night tonight and as much as possible tomorrow. Should keep them from going up too easy. As long as you don’t give them time to build a bonfire on the doorstep, we should be okay. We can also use the debris from today’s battle to bui
ld fortifications in front of the barracks, giving multiple lines of defense,” the engineer offered.

  “That’s what we’ll do then,” Wrend decided, ordering the men to begin building a new barricade just in front of the barracks while soaking the whole place down. The building itself was a single large rectangle with only a small room in the back for an officer to use as quarters if he was visiting. There were still plenty of javelins left, so he had the men prepare stacks on the wall, inside the barricade, and in the barracks itself.

  “We’ll line up tomorrow on the wall. Everyone that can walk and fight will be up there except for the catapult crews. We’ll bleed them when they come, then fall back to the barricade. From there we’ll hold them off as long as possible before falling back to make our final stand inside the barracks itself,” Wrend ordered as his depleted force got to work.

  The engineers readied their catapults for the battle tomorrow; they requested the runesmith to join them at the start of the fight to empower some of the shot with explosive runes, and the dwarf got to work crafting the necessary runes. The men worked through the night, sleeping in shifts while they waited for the sun to rise on what would likely be their last day.

  As the eastern sky began to lighten with the first glow of approaching dawn, nearly sixty defenders mounted the walls of the Point, ready for their final stand.

  Chapter 24

  Laele slid the razor-sharp blade slowly across the neck of the reaver.

  She cut deep enough to cause pain but deftly avoided any of the important arteries that would grant her victim the release of a quick death. She smiled in pleasure as power flowed into her from the comforting sounds of her victim’s screams. Her power was nearly full, and her victim was almost at his end. He had lasted through 197 cuts, far above her average but nowhere near what a true painweaver should be able to inflict.

  “Let his final scream remind you of the price of failure. You failed to take the transition point yesterday. You will not fail me today!” Laele shouted to the assembled forces before motioning for the warrior next to her to finish off her victim.

  The man screamed a final time before falling silent as the warrior’s blade ended his suffering. She had chosen her victim at random from the retreating forces yesterday; there were so many more she should have taken for her attentions, but she still needed the crude humans to fight for her today. It had been such a close thing yesterday, an opportunity wasted in her moment’s hesitation. At the end, it had looked so clear to her that the attack was going nowhere.

  Piles of her dead forces lay in front of the gate. Her forces had been hurled from their ladders or systematically slaughtered on the walls, the breached gate their only true success after the painweaver had died. The towers holding the thrice-cursed scorpions were finally reached by her warriors, only to have them collapse, killing the forces that had cleared them. It was then, when the towers fell, that her will had broken.

  “Go and eat. Prepare for our final assault. We take the transition point, or we all die trying. No excuses, no retreat!” she howled before motioning one of her warriors into the command tent. The assembled Ikbose warriors and the remaining reavers went to eat their breakfast; the portions had become smaller at each meal. Most of their food supplies had burned inside the wagons they were being carried in thanks to the accursed gnome and his road of death.

  “It was my order, my call that failed us yesterday, you realize. I should have been at the front directing the Ikbose. Instead, I lingered here, foolishly thinking my warriors and the painweaver could do the job without my direct guidance,” Laele said as she flopped onto one of the few chairs inside the command tent. The warrior with her stared straight ahead, silent despite knowing what his duty was and what would be required of him.

  “It had looked like the attack was a success at first. The gate breached and then the towers falling. But the creatures, the earth elementals, and the flaming totems fooled me. The magic convinced me the enemy had powerful reserves they were throwing in, making a continued attack at the gate a waste.

  “If I’m being honest, I would have seen how close we were to breaking if I had just been leading the fight directly. That is my crime. I’m not a coward. I was complacent, convinced our numbers would easily carry the day.” She paused in her confession, looking at the silent warrior who stood there. He didn’t respond. Why would he? His only purpose was to listen to her admission of failure . . . and to pay for that failure in her stead.

  “There, I’ve said it. I’ve admitted my failure and crime against the Ikbose. The penalty for me is death. Thank you for accepting my fate,” Laele said, drawing her sword and slicing the warrior’s head off.

  To his credit, the elf never flinched, accepting his role in absolving her of her failure. It was the Ikbose way, the way they had been taught by the great Zipzisilerpicazant. She sat down again, eating the meager portion that was her breakfast. She always believed in eating the same as her soldiers . . . but today was an exception; today she would have the warrior outside bring her another plate.

  Having the first full belly since that cursed gnome burned the supply wagon, Laele took stock of her forces. She had 164 warriors still able to wield blade and bow. Of the humans, there were only 58 remaining. She quickly corrected the numbers to 163 and 57, having forgotten to account for her most recent victims. Too few for an all-out assault on the wall today. She had requested reinforcements after the disaster on the road, but none had shown yet.

  Perhaps she should focus on only two points today. The gate and a second point of attack on the wall would be best , she thought, deciding on a course of action. She would keep a reserve of thirty Ikbose with her today on the field, ready to exploit any gaps on the wall when the enemy invariably converged on the danger spots.

  She tasked the remaining humans and a score of her warriors to assault the breached gate. After she pulled her reserve, that left her with just over one hundred warriors to hit a section of the wall. They had only two ladders with them, the rest lying on the field where they had been discarded. Those ladders made determining where they would scale the wall simple. The section of wall that the painweaver tried to take yesterday had several ladders lying on the ground where they had been abandoned in the retreat, ready to be used once again.

  She waited until the sun rose above the mountain range so she could get a better idea of the enemy defenses. The enemy leader had done some gruesome work during the night and she was almost impressed with his choice of building materials. The human commanding the defenders would have made a good Ikbose.

  The breached gates were piled with corpses, both her warriors and the imperium soldiers. They could tear down the barricade of bodies, but it would take time and casualties to do so . . . No matter. The humans would do most of the dying at the gate for her today.

  “Follow your instructions. Attack!” Laele ordered, moving with her reserve force just behind the warriors heading to the wall. The humans and their supporting warriors made a direct run toward the gate. As they entered range of the enemy siege engines, Laele activated Barrier of Pain, which channeled her stored pain into a shield to protect her from missiles. She didn’t think it would withstand a stone from the catapult, but it might deflect a glancing hit.

  They ran on, entering the extreme range of the enemy siege engines. Sure enough, two giant stones arced over the wall and began to fall . . . toward the attack on the gate, thankfully. The stones hit behind the attacking troops, doing no damage. Her forces made it to bow range when the next pair of rocks fell, one of which glowed with destructive energy.

  The first stone fell, crushing a reaver. The second landed just behind the warriors who were trailing the reavers. That shot exploded, showering her warriors with burning shards of stone. Two went down and several were knocked from their feet by the blast.

  Some of the men near her stopped to loose arrows as they entered range of their bows, but she told them to stop and waved them on. Clearing the walls would give t
hem victory, not picking off a few inattentive soldiers. Another volley of stones and another explosion hit the humans attacking the gate before they were too close for the catapults to fire at them. The defenders responded with a wave of their javelins. This time the defenders were much more cautious; the fools that stuck their head over the wall for “look” had all been killed yesterday.

  Laele winced as a dozen of the leading warriors of her group went down. Looking up at the wall, she could see the Imperium soldiers beginning to run to reinforce the section she was approaching. The numbers of enemies looked very thin today; soon, she would have victory.

  “This way. They leave that section undefended,” she ordered, pointing toward a spot on the wall with no defenders. The reserve warriors followed her to the unmanned section of wall, her men picking up two of the discarded ladders on their way. The ladders were raised to the wall and Laele ordered her reserve up the ladder. Waiting for her turn on the ladder, Laele watched the main force of warriors farther down the wall scale a half dozen ladders, the first of the troops there already clambering over the battlements and onto the walkway.

  The Imperium soldiers defending that section turned and fled, nearly panicking in their haste to get away. She needed to get up on the wall to see the end of the Imperium troops. Pushing a warrior out of her way, she began to climb while shouting at her forces to take prisoners if they could.

  BOOOM!

  The section of the wall vanished in fire. A rain of bodies and flaming pieces of wood slammed into her shield, its power dropping low. When the debris stopped raining down and with her shield nearly depleted, she finished her climb. She crested the battlements as another explosion hit the main group of warriors, hurling bodies off the wall and down to their deaths.

  “Move it, you fools! The runesmith can only have a few of those,” she ordered. She knew little of dwarven magic, save that it followed the same rules as all other types. There was a limit to how much a caster could do in a single day. An explosion of the size she just witnessed must have taken a sizeable chunk of power.