The passes were able to be blocked off, but it would take time to arrange. Additionally, it would prevent others from using the pass until it was cleared, which would take several days of hard work. At the moment, Joven was willing to make others take a detour in order to give the village a better chance of survival.
However they had to make it through the next wave of wolfmen before he could send people out to chop several trees into the pass. Even then, those men had to be able to get there, cut down the trees and drop them into the pass without being killed by any wolfmen in the area. Joven was surprised he hadn't come across any of them on his way to the village from Balator. There were more direct routes through those mountains, however, so he assumed that Wrach's assessment was true and they were only catching a small amount of the coming wolfmen.
Atastos. That term worried Joven. He had been in dozens of skirmishes and repelled a few assaults from the wolfmen in the years before he had been sent to find Endrance, but he had always looked at them as an enemy to be battled, not a wild animal to be put down. The wolfmen he knew would retreat when overwhelmed, take care of their dead and injured, and picked their battles.
They'd always fought dangerously, using both strength of body combined with skill at arms and a degree of teamwork that had led to the barbarian's respect for the wolfmen. Where in other countries they may have been seen as only animals, they displayed strength and cunning, proving they had been worthy of respect and caution.
If these wolfmen were nothing more than mindless, bloodthirsty dead, there was little similarity between the two, other than their physical form. Joven knew that if they had hordes as large as was hinted at, it made sense that General Rohl was having trouble withdrawing the whole of his armies.
He had taken stock of the defenses, the men, and the resources at hand. The night would be long, but he could see the village surviving through until dawn. One had to tighten up the fortifications, draw the enemy to an area that was easily defended, and then kill everything that moved into the zone.
The problem he had was drawing them where he wanted them to be. If it were enemy soldiers, he would prepare an ambush, conceal his presence, and strike when they moved into the only area they thought was safe. With animals, it was a greatly different thing. He would set up a trap, but he would need bait to draw them into the area.
Three hours passed, and the men had a short respite from assault. During this time, Joven sat against the wall, resting. Unlike many amateur warriors, Joven had long since learned to sleep sitting up, and awaken at an instant's notice. It had served him well when traveling alone through the wilderness.
Only a couple of wolfmen had wandered out of the wood, spotted the settlement, and charged. All three were put down far from the wall by attentive archers. Since then, it had been very quiet.
Many of the men had been disturbed; wolfmen had been secondary threats at best. Most of the time, they minded their own business, left the humans alone and only fought when they had conflicting interests. The barbarians respected them, and the wolfmen respected the barbarians. The fact that they had killed over a hundred wolfmen who had died without even a snarl or howl, told them that something unnatural had occurred.
Joven wished Endrance had been there. The wizard would probably figure out why it was happening, follow it to the source, and come up with a solution. He probably would have had it solved within an hour.
He shook his head, conflicting emotions running through him. Look at him, it'd been only a year and already he'd started to rely on a mage to help him. He corrected himself; he was relying on a mage to solve his problems. When did he start coming to trust a magic user?
He concluded that it wasn't that he was a magic user, but rather that he was coming to trust his friend. The man had saved his life in several scrapes, and had proven he was more honorable in behavior and in keeping his word than many of the barbarians Joven had grown up with. He wasn't entirely sure why he knew, but he was certain Endrance was a rarity, even among magic users.
Chapter 06
Endrance stood at the edge of the hot spring and grimaced. "I told them to leave the place alone." he muttered, shaking his head.
The hot spring was a relatively secret location, accessible only from the Spengur's home. A lone rocky path led to the spring in the side of the mountain, flanked on all sides by over a dozen feet of steep rock. The passage had terminated up against the Spengur's longhouse, but recent events had caused his home to burn to the ground. Since then, most weren't willing to pass through the site to investigate; but from what he could see, some of the craftsmen working on rebuilding his house had been using it after a day's work.
The hot spring was in a sixty foot diameter clearing, with forty feet of it taken up by mineral water that washed in from an underground current through the mountain. Chips of rock, discarded tools, and piles of clothes were scattered all around the spring. He was just glad the water didn't look like it had been sullied.
The wizard had been curious as to how the water got so hot so high up in the mountains, but he had so many other things going on that he didn't have the time to investigate. As it was, he was at the spring for the other curious feature he had discovered about the location. The spring's water had a surprising amount of magical power diffused through it. It was almost as if something was empowering the water before it came to the spring.
Endrance stripped off his shirt and set it aside. He was going to attempt it without help from the bracer or the pool, but he wanted to have it available just in case. The spell he was about to use drained enormous amounts of power the last time he had cast it, and it could have done untold damage to him if he had not been tapping into the spring when it happened.
Since then, Endrance had felt more confident in his ability and he’d learned quite a bit more about summoning magic. It had been absorbed into his head, and after spending several hours after Joven left examining the techniques that Kalenden had imprinted on his mind, Endrance finally felt like he could try again with a much clearer success.
He focused his mind, closing his eyes and relaxing his arms. The tattoos scribed upon his skin began to slowly brighten in color, turning from black to orange like coals heating in a fire. The orange began to shift into a luminous golden light and the light around the spring increased with the rising amplitude of his power.
As power seeped through his meridians, Endrance kept acute attention on the spell circle that covered most of his back. Having gained it most of the year prior, he still had not figured out how it had appeared. He knew why; some drug he had ingested to invoke a vision quest had somehow triggered the transformation. However, he didn't know how he had scribed the circle. He had never studied much circle magic as an apprentice, and only had rudimentary understanding of familiars.
He cautiously probed the spell circle and found the point that had gone out of control almost immediately. Last time, the spell had taken off on its own and ran to completion without his ability to intervene. This time, he understood enough about the spell to run the spell at his own pace. It was exactly like any spell he’d cast; the more he understood it, the more effective and efficient it became.
He drew upon his own power and initiated the first stage of the circle. The lines over the rest of his body darkened, but the circle on his back brightened considerably. It was composed of a large, outer circle and three different sized circles, connected by arcing lines of arcane script. No longer did the spell burn when he powered it; instead it just buzzed across his skin, he was almost numb to the sensation.
He controlled the drain on his reserves, slowly feeding the spell power from his aura as it progressed to the next stage. Before it had consumed power, but had wasted a great deal of it; actually bleeding power into the air around him and blasting a great deal of water away from him. Now that he was more careful, he was preventing the power bleed and making sure only the power required was going into the spell.
On his back, the only inner circle wi
th markings within it began to shift, expanding to cover over the rest of the spell. A disk of fire filled in the circle and Endrance felt the third stage activate. As it reached it, he poured a tremendous amount of his aura into the spell, taking all the power that would have been wasted by the power bleed and fueling the final step of the spell.
Out of his back erupted a ball of fire four feet across, rocketing into the night sky. Endrance took a breath as the circle closed, the third stage completed and the spell ended. The ball of fire shot straight up into the air, and exploded hundreds of yards above. A blast wave of flames rushed out in all directions for a dozen yards, creating a sphere of fire for but an instant before it dispersed.
A boom echoed through the night, and the water of the spring rippled with the sound. Endrance blinked up at the display in awe.
From above drifted down a crimson bird, significantly bigger than the little chick that had last come from the spell. The bird was fire and crimson colored, reminiscent of a combination between a falcon and a more domestic bird. Having matured a great deal, the crimson bird's feathers flickered with flames as the wind played on its wings.
It landed on the ground in front of Endrance, its wingspan easily six feet across, though its head only came up to Endrance's waist. The bird looked the mage up and down and tilted its head to the side.
I do not think I will be able to sit on your head anymore. The bird stated warmly. Maybe I can fit on a shoulder?
"Gullin?" Endrance asked, incredulous. He had been expecting another Fjallar, but as far as he knew, his first familiar had died. "You're alive?"
Indeed. Gullin responded. Have you forgotten how to communicate with me in the last month I have been gone?
Endrance shook his head, remembering. Sorry. Endrance replied mentally. I thought you said-
I told you that my death would be permanent. Gullin replied. That was not enough to truly kill me.
Truly kill you? How did you survive? Endrance asked, gathering up his shirt and slipping it on. His back was not tender like the last time he had tried the spell.
The Fjallar would not die from mortal means. Gullin replied. I was merely sent back to my home.
I'm sorry. I should have tried to call you sooner. Endrance admitted. I was so busy, and I thought you had died, and-
There is nothing to forgive. Gullin responded. I was lax in educating you more thoroughly in my abilities.
You've gotten much bigger. Endrance observed.
Gullin fluffed his feathers. I am closer to my true size, yes. He replied. I thank you for becoming more powerful in the interim.
Eh, I do what I can. Endrance quipped. It's a good thing you've returned. I need your help more than ever.
Gullin seemed to observe him closely for several seconds. Indeed. The Fjallar replied, flapping his wings as he hopped into the air. The bird landed on Endrance's shoulder and carefully turned around. The bird had actual weight to him now. Before, as a chick, Gullin had practically no mass that Endrance could determine. Gullin touched the side of his head to Endrance's.
It seems that you have some things that need repair, both within and without. Gullin observed. We shall start with the internal matters, and then move on to the external. Why have they not completed construction of your home?
Endrance sighed. It seemed that there was a lot he still had to accomplish before General Rohl returned. He’d recovered his familiar, but in doing so may have revealed more issues he was unaware of.
Let's go then, Gullin. There's much to be done and few days to do it.
* * *
Joven looked up from the dying wolfman as the night sky lit up with fire. He wrenched the axe free as a ball of fire exploded in the air over Mt. Balator, turning back to the hordes of wolfmen still at their throats. They had also paused, though they outnumbered the men four to one, and the walls had started buckling in several locations. A third of the defenders had already fallen and Joven knew it was becoming a rout.
The wolfmen had paused, the fading firelight flickering in unintelligent eyes. If they returned their attention to the village, the remainder of the defenders, as well as the child, would be torn to pieces. Joven didn't have much choice.
He took the moment of hesitation and stormed into the battlefield, leaping off the splintering walls and crushing two wolfmen under his boots as he destroyed a third with the axe of his father. He swept into the largest cluster, swinging his axe in a wide arc. Unguarded, four wolfmen lost their lives to his initial attack, dark blood spraying into the air.
He managed to kill three more before the wolfmen around him snapped out of their unnatural reverie. They came upon him from all sides, heedless of their own lives. Joven struck down any that came close to him, but they pressed in faster than he could swing. His armor took several slashes and his arms and legs were bleeding from numerous scrapes.
He pressed on, determined to give the village a chance to survive. The few defenders left regrouped, the archers firing arrows into the wolfmen coming up his flanks and rear, their shots hampering or sometimes outright slaying an attacker before Joven had to deal with it.
He was on the verge of being overwhelmed, but in some way, he enjoyed it. His muscles burned, blood flowed and his breath came hard. He was free of the concerns of tomorrow; only the now mattered. His battle focus enabled him to fight on despite being surrounded by foes.
He fought, chopping and slashing and swinging his axe. Leaping forward, he'd meet the enemy before they came to him. The limbs and jaws of wolfmen became a blur and he lost track of time as the struggle continued. He received several blows, but his armor helped divert fatal injuries.
Suddenly, Joven swung his axe and brought down a wolfman, but no other foes rushed into the gap. He lifted his axe and looked about for a new target. It took several seconds for him to realize that there were none left.
Joven stood on top of a several foot tall mound of corpses, surrounded by the bodies of the dead and dying. He turned to look at the village and saw only haunted, pale faces looking back. The archers had apparently run out of arrows long before, and all who were still able to stand on the walls gaped at the gory spectacle that Joven had created.
The barbarian looked down at himself. His armor was scratched and slashed, several of his weapons were missing and he was covered with so much blood he was unable to tell how much of it was his. He was a terror to behold.
He slowly took control of his breathing and stumbled down the pile of bodies to the ground. He was feeling a little woozy, but otherwise seemed fine.
"You're alive!" Berand called. Apparently, he had survived the attacks as well. "By the gods, you fought like no man I've ever seen before!"
Joven waved a tired hand dismissively. "Ah, you know..." He said, leaning his shoulder against the wall as men struggled to open the village gate. "I've been in a few fights."
Berand came out of the village to talk to him. "I can see. We still don't know how you survived."
Joven looked past the gate into the village. "It's easy, you just don't die." he explained. "Is the baby safe?"
"Yes. You managed to keep them occupied long enough so that the rest of us could kill the few that made it over the wall. No children were harmed." Berand explained. "Everyone who had been scratched by them became sick almost within moments. How is it that you are well?"
Joven dug into one of the pouches on his belt. He pulled out a thick, squat, square vial. The glass was as thick as the chamber it protected. Only a bit of brownish residue coated one side of the bottle. He handed the container to Berand and shrugged.
"It's made of herbs and parts of certain animals found all over the mountain." Joven explained, feeling the twinges of post-combat pains setting in. "Many professional scouts and hunters learn to make it to help fight off infection and sickness from animal bites and claws."
"And it works?" Berand asked.
Joven shrugged. "Well it doesn't stop the claws, or bites, so it only works so well. Think maybe I c
ould get some bandages?" He gestured to his blood soaked form. "I think I've sprung a leak somewhere.”
Berand nodded. "Yeah." he replied. "I think we can do a little more for the man who single handedly killed dozens of wolfmen and saved our lives."
"Oh good." Joven panted. "So long as I stop leaking."
Joven hesitated as he passed under the gate back into the village. Something nagged at him, and he turned to look back at the battlefield. He caught a glimpse of a shadow in the far tree line watching him. In the dark, all he could see was a bone white mask that looked like a skull. He stared at it for a moment and was going to call attention to it when his vision started to blur and burn. Blood had dripped into his eyes. He wiped them clear, but the masked form was gone.
He dismissed the observation. After all, he had just gone into a rampage and killed more foes in a single battle than in the last six years of his life combined. It could have been the face of a death god, thanking him for sending so many foes into his hands.
* * *
The masked figure waited until the bodyguard turned away before looking back over the battlefield. That barbarian had surprisingly keen senses for someone who had been completely exhausted. He was also resistant to the infection, a fact that was mildly distressing but not ultimately significant to their plans.
However, the man had managed to save the village, which should have been below the Spengur’s notice. With his criminal arrest impending, he had to have had his mind elsewhere. How did he know of their presence, much less their plans?
It shook its head. It was just a lucky break, that was all. They had lost several dozen of the risen dead, but it was a fraction of the full forces they were directing.
The masked figure slashed the air with a hand, cutting a dark tear into reality. It slipped through and the tear sealed, erasing any trace of its presence.
Chapter 07
The next morning, as the suns rose over the tips of the mountains to the east, a man's scream echoed through the Spengur's temporary home. Birds took flight, startled, and several of the citizens on the road in front of the house immediately gave the house wide berth.
Spellscribed: Ascension Page 10