Limitless Lands Book 4: Opposition (A LitRPG Adventure)

by Henegar, Dean

  “Narbos will be cool once I tell him we have strong allies who are already defeating Delling’s troops in the zone,” Darkfallow said to his two bodyguards. He sat at the little desk in his tent; reports could be accessed to manage his troops, but that really didn’t appeal to him. It was night here in-game, which was boring when you’re with an npc army that has to sleep.

  “Time to log out for a bit,” Darkfallow said, just starting to bring up his main menu and the logout button when first one and then the second of his bodyguards’ heads rolled past him.

  “What the . . .”

  “Don’t log out just yet. I have to complete my contract,” a voice whispered in his ear as a hot pain lanced up his spine. Darkfallow had turned down the pain feedback in-game to the minimum, so feeling this amount of pain meant the damage had to be severe. His health bar dropped toward zero as poison and debuff icons sprang up.

  “Give Narbos my best, Darkfallow,” the attacker told him as she twisted the blades in his back, dropping him to zero health. Before releasing to respawn, he caught a glimpse of his assassin, the familiar form fading into invisibility as she left his tent . . . Lovely had killed him. That traitor!

  Quest Update: Pave the Way. You have died and are no longer able to lead the expeditionary force directly or enter the zone the conflict is occurring in. Your forces will be given to the Ikbose to control until they are destroyed or have completed the remaining requirements for the quest and objectives (Conquest of the Goreaxe ogres and Control of the Eastern Transition Point).

  Respawning in the Bharga graveyard in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . .

  Chapter 26

  It was late afternoon before the replacements led by Sergeant Wrend arrived through the transition point. The entire garrison force was replaced and Ignominia was now up to fifty-eight out of a maximum of eighty soldiers and three scouts out of ten. The rest of the legion also received a few replacement scouts. After sorting out his soldiers and the garrison, Wrend came up to brief me.

  “Sir, sorry I wasn’t here to meet you. I was otherwise engaged,” Wrend joked.

  “Sergeant, falling in combat is no excuse for shirking your duties,” I joked before giving a rundown of what I already knew about the defense of the transition point.

  “You have the gist of it, sir. We had the six ogres join us and they fought hard. There was also a strange gnome that came through the portal, walked down the road, and proceeded to kick the stuffing out of the Ikbose. Delayed them for a full day and a half—a day and a half we desperately needed,” Wrend added.

  “I was going to leave your unit here to help defend the portal, but it looks like the full garrison arrived with your men, so I think I’ll have you join the rest of the legion. I’m not sure how many enemies we’ll face, but I do know we’ll need every blade if we’re to prevail,” I told him before forming up the legion to begin our march.

  The legion marched out in column formation and began moving down the road toward Goreaxe Peak. Using the road would make us take a longer path but would save time in the long run since the rough ground would delay our siege train and supply wagons.

  We camped that night alongside the road with a double watch; I didn’t want any soldiers on watch to be snagged by elves this time. I was pulled from the game again that night, fortunately without dying this time. My departure from the game seemed to be a normal med check, thankfully. I didn’t feel any different in-game, but it was strange to think that while I was playing, microscopic machines were creating a new heart valve for my body.

  As dawn broke, the camp became a beehive of activity. Meals were cooked and scouts sent out as the legion made ready to continue. Just before we marched out, the next batch of replacements arrived. The entire legion, including Ignominia, was at full strength for soldiers. We still lacked several scouts but did receive another pair along with the last of Wrend’s regular replacements.

  By midday, we left the road, turning to the south and straight toward the giant Goreaxe Peak in the distance. The terrain was hard on the wagons, slowing our progress considerably. We persevered; the men moved rocks from in front of the wheels and even helped the mukok push at times. It was late afternoon and the column was about to halt for the night when one of the scouts raced toward me with a report.

  “Sir, we’ve spotted the enemy. The Ikbose have pulled away from the siege and are heading directly toward us. They left a thin screen of troops to keep an eye on the ogres and are headed here with the rest. Here are the enemy numbers and dispositions,” the scout reported, handing me a small scroll that populated my interface with information on the enemy army.

  Ikbose Forces:

  Warriors: 800

  Painweavers: 15

  Reavers: 600

  Executioners: 185

  Assorted Mercenary Forces: 300

  We were outnumbered two to one. The scout was unable to give more information on the mercenaries, save from most of them being heavily armored and carrying large spears. If we continued to march in the morning, the battle would occur before noon. I called a meeting of the command staff, which consisted of my nco’s and the runesmith Harbox.

  “Here’s what we’re up against,” I said, laying the enemy numbers on the elaborately decorated table, cursing Blevins under my breath.

  My new “command” tent had made its debut the first night on the road. Somehow Blevins had procured what looked to be a used circus tent. Each panel of the tent was dyed a different bright color and it was decorated with tassels and banners. I heard the men roaring with laughter in the camp when they first saw it. The worst part was that Phineas had supplied it and even went so far as to leave me a note thanking me for my patronage and reassuring me this was the finest available anywhere in the land.

  “The question is do we march to meet the enemy in the morning or turtle up here behind our defenses?” I asked, trying to focus on the task at hand. The final order would be mine, but I valued their input.

  “The men have their blood up, sir. I say we lay into them. They’ll break as soon as they feel our steel,” Wrend said, ready for another fight.

  “I disagree, Sergeant. Stay on the defensive, getting the most value out of my siege engines,” Tavers said.

  “Gentlemen, what does it say under the banner outside?” Brooks asked, referring to the legion standard posted just outside my tent.

  “Upon this rock, armies are broken,” we all replied, the legion motto cementing my decision.

  “We will stay on the defensive, fortify our position, and bleed the enemy dry. Once they’ve been cut down to size we’ll charge out and scatter them. They’ll be confident in their numerical advantage, and everything I’ve seen of the elves so far leads me to believe they are arrogant. Their army will break like all the others . . . We defend,” I ordered.

  “Here’s how we’ll play it. Our fortified camp is essentially a large rectangle. The wider part is facing the area of the enemy advance to our south. I expect they’ll come straight in while at the same time flowing around our fortifications to encircle us. The southern flank will be held by alpha company. Bravo will take the northern flank while charlie will be spread between east and west. Everyone will man the line, no company reserve held back. I want to be as strong as we can along the entire front.

  “Ignominia will form the legion reserve, responding to any breakthroughs or unexpected threats. Harbox, you will have your runesmiths prepare with just explosive, spike, and elemental runes. Keep one with each of the catapults and the rest near the scorpions. Let them know they are to do the most damage they can; if that means leaving the siege engines so the runesmiths can throw runes by hand, so be it.

  “Speaking of siege engines, I assume you want your catapults right where they’re at in the center of the camp? Also, where should we deploy the scorpions to get maximum impact?” I asked Tavers.

  “The catapults are perfect where they’re at. The scorpions can move around quickly on their carts, which will help us stay flexible. I
’ll place all ten on the southern front to begin with unless the enemy comes from an unexpected direction. I can shift them around as the battle develops, but that will give us serious firepower in the opening stages of the fight,” Tavers said.

  “Good. I want you to inflict casualties but have your men keep an eye out for the painweavers. They are the biggest threat out there, and each time one shows its ugly face, fill him with scorpion bolts. We should have some time before battle to prepare. Also, the enemy hasn’t experienced our caltrops, so make sure the men use them all to protect the front of our lines,” I ordered.

  The legion went about preparing for battle. Through the night, the men on watch scattered caltrops out in front of our defenses. There were no trees in this area, so the only wooden spikes we had were the ones we brought with us. There were enough to protect the front of the defensive ditch, but not to the concentration I would have preferred.

  Tavers was up most of the night fine-tuning the catapults while adding the protective shields to the scorpions that the engineers defending the Point had come up with. It was a simple but effective idea; the devices reminded me of a gun shield from the crew-served weapons I had used back in the real world.

  When dawn broke on the horizon, Tavers and his engineers went out through the safe lanes we had left in the caltrop field. The group hammered range stakes and painted rocks as reference points all around the legion’s fortified camp. When the enemy appeared, the siege engines of the legion would be ready to rain accurate fire on our foes.

  Scouts sent out at first light confirmed the enemy was moving and heading this way. I had the men stand down to conserve their energy while we waited for our foes to arrive. The enemy force showed on the horizon around noon and slowly approached the legion. The approaching force had several wagons following along with the troops, and seeing them struggle over the rough ground cemented my confidence in our strategy. Better to fight here behind defenses rather than out in the open.

  The enemy arrived in dribs and drabs, there was no cohesion to their order of march. Eventually, with some shouting by their officers, the force began to sort itself out in front of us. They had come in straight toward the legion like we had predicted. Trying fancy maneuvers was too hard with forces from several different armies as well as a wagon train of supplies accompanying the army.

  The Ikbose forces moved forward and began to spread out. Directly across from alpha was a block of heavy spearmen, the mercenaries spotted by the scouts. These looked well-disciplined, unlike most of the Ikbose army. The spearmen had large, round metal shields and sturdy chainmail armor that was comparable to what my own forces wore. They reminded me of ancient Greek hoplite soldiers. Groups of Ikbose elves formed up to either side of the spearmen, their bows out and ready to fire once they were within range.

  “Sir, looks like they didn’t get the memo about our upgraded siege engines. They’re just inside extreme range for the catapults. Shall I commence firing?” Tavers asked. I had placed myself with the catapults, standing on one of the ammunition wagons to get a better view of the battlefield.

  “Hold for a bit. Let’s see what it is they’re moving up,” I said, hauling Tavers up next to me and pointing at six wagons pulling up just behind the spearmen. The crews of the wagons jumped down, then began hauling precut pieces of wood into position just in front of the line of spears.

  “They’re putting together catapults! The fools must think they’re out of range. They’re doing like I would, sir—build the engines just out of range, then manhandle them forward as quickly as they can to duel the enemy batteries. Shall I teach them the error of their ways?” Tavers asked, an evil grin on his face.

  “By all means, Corporal. Commence firing. Focus on the siege engines, then the spearmen . . . They look a little too disciplined, I fear,” I told the engineer.

  “Battery one, battery two, battery three, prepare fire mission. Counterbattery, enemy siege engines in the open,” Tavers began.

  While Tavers prepared his batteries to fire, the enemy reavers jogged around the enemy’s flanks, slowly encircling the legion. We were soon surrounded by our foes. Being surrounded in a legion camp was quite a bit different than being surrounded in the open field, as our foes were about to learn.

  The first shots from the catapults landed among the half-finished batteries the enemy were trying to cobble together. One of the partially completed siege engines was smashed to pieces and several of the crew were killed.

  The mercenary catapult crews panicked, not sure if they should complete their task or pull back out of range. As the second volley landed among the enemy, calls sounded out from their leaders. The mass of Ikbose forces began to march forward.

  Tavers kept the catapults firing on the enemy siege engines while the scorpions launched their first rounds. Most of the scorpions focused on the approaching spearmen for their first volley. After firing, the weapons were pushed around to cover each front, diluting our firepower but giving support in all directions.

  The first volley of bolts hit the approaching spearmen like a runaway mukok. They raised shields only to find that it did them little good; the force of our weapons penetrated right through. A few were killed, and many more had to cast away shields fouled by the bolts sticking through them. Another volley fired and then the advancing elves stopped and readied their bows. They had closed enough to bring their weapons into play.

  A swarm of hundreds of arrows rained down among the men. Our armor was strong, and our shields offered even more protection; only the occasional lucky shot inflicted any damage. I held my shield up over my head, trying to protect Tavers, who stood next to me. One arrow clanged off my armor as a second lodged in my forearm where the armor didn’t cover.

  The arrow lodged in my arm caused me to drop the shield even as more arrows landed nearby. Tavers picked up my shield and held it over the two of us while he crouched beside me. Grabbing the point of the arrow, he looked at me for permission. I nodded and pain flared again as Tavers broke the arrow and pulled it from my arm.

  With Tavers holding the shield, I was able to pull out my field dressing and bandage up the damage. The healing from the bandage refilled most of the health I had lost. Looking to the catapult crews, I saw that they had fared much worse. Half were down and the other half were still trying to service their weapons. Even more disastrous was the runesmith lying dead next to the fallen crew.

  “Tavers, get your catapult crews under the wagons until the barrage ends,” I ordered. Tavers handed my shield back and led his surviving catapult crews to shelter under the wagons. The shower of arrows continued to fall, and the number of casualties continued to rise. Explosions erupted to the south as the pair of runesmiths stationed there hurled explosive runes into the mass of approaching spears. The explosions ripped holes in their tightly packed formations, opening them up to the follow-on volley of javelins the soldiers on that side released.

  True to their Roman pilum origins, the javelins stuck inside the enemy shields and then bent, preventing easy removal. The spear phalanx then entered the thin layer of caltrops we had placed in front of the trench. First one, then another, and finally a score of enemies fell to the ground, clutching at their feet and the metal spikes embedded in them. The caltrops slowed and broke up the formation, but the highly trained mercenaries filled the gaps almost as quickly as a legion force would have. Information populated my view as they neared the stake filled trench.

  The Shield Brothers: These mercenary soldiers fight for the highest bidder. They are the remnants of an ancient empire that predates the Imperium, their lands having fallen to the Emperor Calgunos. The Shield Brothers fight in the old phalanx style, a tight mass of heavily armored and shielded soldiers wielding 12-foot-long spears.

  Shield Brothers, Level 14 (220).

  The Shield Brothers hit the trench line, and instead of trying to navigate the stake-filled pit, they ignored it. The line of enemies stopped on the edge of the pit; our first ranks of soldiers wer
e within reach of their long spears. Commands rang out from the enemy line and the spears were thrust forward. We had no defense against this; our gladius blades were way too short to reach the enemy.

  The rear ranks of alpha company were continuing to hurl javelins into the tightly packed mercenaries. For every spearman killed by a javelin, five of my own soldiers were killed or injured by the thrusting spears. The enemy was disciplined and skilled, waiting for any opening in our defense before striking.

  We were losing the battle to our front.

  Taking a quick scan of the rest of our lines, I found that the story was better. The reavers had massed to the north but were having no luck in breaching our lines or even causing much harm. In response, my men were cutting them down like so much hay in a field. Against the reavers, we had better armor, weapons, and training. Blind bravery and poor-quality equipment left these foes to be used like training dummies for my men. A line of fifty or so elves marched behind the mass of reavers, firing at targets of opportunity, doing damage to our forces and staying well outside javelin range.

  The real test for the northern flank would be the executioners following just behind the reavers. They looked unconcerned that their comrades were being cut down so easily. The glowing eye sockets in their helms gave off a creepy vibe. With the sheer number of reavers, it would be some time before the executioners hit the line. The reavers were providing one benefit to their kin, however—they were clearing the caltrops and stakes for their advance. Our defenses were claiming several enemy warriors, but the killed and injured were the weaker reavers, not the ominous executioners.

  The shorter lines to the east and west were being assaulted by Ikbose elves. Like the northern flank, each of these flanks had fifty or so elves hanging back from the main mass, content to just lob arrows at our line. These archers were supporting an assault of 200 elves who were closing to melee range on each flank, longswords and daggers in hand.