Siege Tactics (Spells, Swords, & Stealth Book 4)

by Drew Hayes

  * * *

  Diving to the side, Eric scrambled through the grass, narrowly dodging a blow meant for his head. Without his high-quality armor and dodging skills, the fight would have ended in the first ten seconds. His enemy wasn’t quite as graceful or dexterous as Eric, but his skill with those swords more than closed the gap. Counterattacking was as much a hopeless dream as defeating a dragon bare-handed. It took everything Eric had just to keep from receiving a fatal blow. Reflexes kept him out of range from the killing attacks, while his armor absorbed most of the glancing strikes. Unfortunately, those hit so hard that the armor-muted blades created bruises with each contact. If this was what the glancing blows felt like, Eric was reasonably certain he couldn’t survive a direct one.

  His only hidden card to play was their piece of the Bridge, tucked away in his pack, and Eric wasn’t sure how much that would help. Using the Bridge was dangerous for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that he had no idea what might happen. Maybe it would give him enough strength to win, or maybe it would shatter the very magic keeping this man, and potentially Gabrielle, alive. Unless the stakes were truly dire—end-of-the-world or death-of-his-friends dire—it was hard to justify using something so unpredictable.

  To his surprise, after coming to his feet from evading the most recent strike, Eric discovered that his enemy had halted the assault. Wary though he was, Eric needed the chance to catch his breath, so he didn’t object.

  “You’ve lasted a full three minutes. That’s rather impressive, given how clearly weak you are. Nevertheless, it’s a feat that warrants some reward. I give you my name, adventurer. You may call me Julian.”

  “I’m Eric. Does the introduction end our break, or was there something else you wanted to talk about?”

  “Me? I have little that warrants discussion. No, I paused because I was ordered to. The one who commands us all is speaking to your friends once more, giving them a path to freedom. What they, and you, choose will decide whether or not this continues.”

  A waste of time, then. The others wouldn’t give up Gabrielle. It went against everything that had gotten them this far. Sticking together was their only hope. “I’ll go ahead and give you my answer now, then: hell no. We leave as a party, or we die as a party. That’s it.”

  “About what I expected, yet my orders are still to wait. So unless you do something as idiotic as attack me, your time stretches onward. It matters not. Our commander will be triumphant regardless.”

  Knowing the others, they’d tell that mystery voice to shove it up her ass—maybe more politely, if Gabrielle was occupied with fighting. As soon as they did, the fight would be back on, and Eric had no delusions it was a battle he could win. There was an idea percolating in his head, obviously a long shot, yet still a huge improvement over his current situation. It was a little underhanded, admittedly, but that was part of being a rogue. He just needed to catch Julian off guard, and there was one fact Eric could toss out that might just do the trick.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be quite so confident about that if I were you.” Slowly, concealing his movements as best he could, Eric altered his stance so he could close the distance between them in a single bound. “See, you and your boss made one key miscalculation.”

  “I hope you’re not about to say that we failed to account for the bond between allies making you all stronger, because we did, and it is still wildly not enough,” Julian replied.

  “Good guess, but also way off.” Eric lowered his sword hand a few degrees, ensuring he was positioned perfectly for what came next. “Nope, see, you misread the situation and your opponent both. Divine magic hurts the undead? Well, bad news for you then, Julian. Because I’m not the party’s paladin.”

  Those sunken, glowing eyes widened in a flicker of surprise, then glanced away from Eric. A perfectly understandable reaction. Maybe he was able to see his commander where Eric was not and was checking up on her, or perhaps he was mentally informing her of the new development. Either way, he wasn’t looking right at Eric, and that was exactly what the rogue had been waiting for.

  The gem on Eric’s sword flashed as he bolted forward, every bit of his remaining strength left pinned on a single swing of the blade.

  * * *

  “Rouse.”

  The final word of Grumph’s spell was also the only one any of his friends could understand. Conversely, they knew the effects of the magic quite well. This was a spell technically above Grumph’s capabilities, imparted to him thanks to Eric and the first piece of the Bridge they’d found. While it did burn the remainder of his mana, it also reinvigorated him and nearby allies. Certainly, it was far from perfect; they were still wounded and outnumbered by a healthy margin. But this at least gave them some energy to fight with, and that was especially relevant since their true target had finally appeared.

  Thistle was already in motion, a pair of daggers flying straight for the staff-wielding woman’s head. Gabrielle and Timuscor were running forward, Mr. Peppers on the latter’s heels, ignoring the frozen enemies as they rushed to flank the lone target. As for Grumph himself, his mana was spent. However, his strength-enhancement was still in the mix, so he lowered his staff like a lance and charged. It was a graceless, obvious attack, as were Gabrielle and Timuscor’s. In a situation like this one, subtlety was a lost cause. Their only viable hope was to try the same tactic as their enemy: overwhelm through superior numbers. Even if she could see the attacks coming, at least one might land. What came after that was anyone’s guess. They were dashing from moment to moment in a frenzied effort to stay alive.

  The first of Thistle’s daggers crashed against an unseen barrier, creating a flash of light followed by a sharp noise like a taut wire snapping. They had just enough time to register a flicker of confusion on the woman’s face before the second dagger flew past the barrier unimpeded. Unfortunately, she effortlessly knocked it away with her staff, although her eyes were now locked on Thistle.

  “It seems I misjudged your skill set.”

  “Get used to that.” Gabrielle had arrived, power all but rising off her like steam from a morning lake. She brought down her enchanted axe like she meant to split the world beneath their feet. It was a glorious blow, right on track to land—until it slammed against the pitch-black staff and completely halted.

  “You aren’t nearly as surprising.” The mage didn’t seem especially bothered by the effort of stopping such a blow. With a step forward and a single motion, she shoved Gabrielle back, sending her stumbling into a tree. “And while I’m sure the augmented strength in your possession makes you feel invincible, you really have no idea the depths of power that can be plumbed from necromancy.”

  Timuscor didn’t announce himself, but his armor made the charge impossible to miss. As soon as he drew close, she spun around and blocked his sword with her staff, using the same ease she’d demonstrated against Gabrielle. Grumph was nearly there. If he could make it while she was locked up with Timuscor, they might yet score a hit. The damn frozen enemies between them were slowing him down, but he was making progress. Timuscor just had to last for a few seconds.

  “More of the usual, I see, save for the boar. He’s quite adorable. Where did you—?” As the mage spoke, her eyes swept upward, meeting Timuscor’s. Instantly, she froze, gaze locked with his.

  Grumph didn’t understand, nor did he have the luxury of puzzling it out. For the first time in the entire battle, there was an actual path to progress. Racing ahead with all the strength his muscles could offer, Grumph angled the staff so that the blade would plunge through her torso and come out the other side, away from Timuscor. He expected her to block again, or dodge, or raise a magical barrier, yet still he pressed on. At least this way, there was a chance, however slim, at success.

  To the surprise of everyone present, and a few unseen people watching from a cauldron, the mage didn’t so much as flinch. Grumph’s blade caught her just below the ribs, sliding through her torso and out the other side. They’d done it
. They’d managed to land a single blow, one that should be crippling, if not deadly. Unfortunately, she seemed no more nonplussed by the makeshift spear running through her than she had Grumph’s charge. Her attention was firmly locked on Timuscor.

  “You are… aren’t you? I can see it in there. The confusion, the uncertainty, the loss of your place in the world. Forgive the rough greeting. I had no idea this party kept an echo in their company.”

  * * *

  Eric’s gambit had failed. Fast as he was, focused as he was, the gulf between him and Julian was simply too much to overcome. While he had managed to gain a fleeting moment of surprise in the attack, Julian shifted fast enough that the strike merely took one of his arms, rather than his head. In other circumstances, that might have been enough. Sadly, one of the many issues with fighting the undead was their unwillingness to die from dismemberment. Even with that, Eric could have held on to hope if he’d had any more stamina left; perhaps taking out one of the swords would make a difference. His heavy limbs told the truth whether his mind wanted to hear it or not: this match had taken Eric to his limits. Aside from—at most—a few more dodges, he was done until he rested. Whereas Julian, despite being an arm down, looked spry and ready to continue.

  “That was pretty decent.” Julian evaluated the slice through his arm, clean and even the whole way down. “For someone of your abilities, the fact that you scored a hit is remarkable, let alone that you took off a limb. Of course, using a blessed weapon helped with that, but still, kudos.”

  “I’d feel more complimented if you seemed even a little bit bothered by the wound,” Eric replied. While it was a chatty battle, as the one who needed time to recover, he wasn’t going to object. “You don’t even seem annoyed.”

  “How can I phrase this kindly?” Julian was walking again, sizing Eric up and blatantly choosing his next angle of attack. “It would be like if a kitten bopped your nose hard enough to sting. Painful? A little. But certainly not enough reason to feel anger or fear toward the kitten. This was never a fight, Eric. If you were ten times stronger, it still wouldn’t be. There is power in this world well beyond your comprehension.”

  The weight in Eric’s pack rested heavy against him, a tactile reminder of what lay within. Was it time? Had things gotten that desperate? Without knowing how the others were faring, it was impossible to say, and Eric didn’t feel his own life warranted the risk. Besides, if Julian was really that much stronger, then couldn’t he have ended the match whenever he saw fit? Either that was a lie, which seemed unlikely given how the fight was going, or there was more going on than just a simple duel to the death.

  “You might be surprised by what I can comprehend.”

  “On that account, I suspect you could be right.” The voice hadn’t come from Julian this time. It was softer, the same tones he’d heard when they first entered the forest. Both men spun around to find the trees opened once more, a woman holding a pitch-black staff visible in the space. At a closer inspection, Eric realized she also had a familiar bladed staff impaling her through the torso.

  Instantly, Julian hit the ground in a kneel, eyes to the dirt. “My lady Simone. I apologize. Has my performance demanded intervention?”

  “Never, Julian. The situation has simply grown more complex than we first suspected. They had an echo with them. I’ve already transported the others. Knock that one out, and we’ll head home.”

  Eric had just enough time to wonder what the hell they were talking about before he realized an attack was coming. The realization did him no good: Julian was already there, remaining arm raised overhead. Fast as he was, Eric had just enough time to see the pommel of Julian’s blade coming down before the entire world faded out in a bolt of pain, followed by darkness.

  7.

  The first step of getting into Lumal was finding one of the hidden entrances. According to legend, Lumal first began as a settlement by scholars who wished for a safe place to store and conduct their research, paired with mages who sought a place for their more potent experiments. Between the two groups, they were able to construct a new, miniature plane of existence, a pocket of space kept partially separate from the rest of the world through complex spells and enchantments. This was Lumal’s greatest protection; it could be neither invaded nor infiltrated. Only those granted permission were allowed to cross the divide between planes.

  Myths existed of potent enemies cracking through the wards, forcing their way in, but they were all ancient. The amount of knowledge and skill concentrated in Lumal meant that they were always developing new ways to wield magic. After hundreds of years of focused study, their defenses were considered nigh impregnable by anything short of a god. Breaking in simply wasn’t an option. If a party wanted to access the City of Knowledge, they had to go through the proper channels.

  “Let’s see. The phoenix ashes should be available in a few days, so that’s one potion component down. We’ve got the water from the river of the naga, and an order for the lesser base components, so that just leaves… five more minor magical items for the potion? I swear, this list is getting longer every time I look at it.” Bert frowned as he stared down at his sheet, as though he could will their required tasks to grow smaller.

  “Hey, Chalara wanted to take that deal from the black market where we only had to hunt for a few and could steal the rest. We could have had an actual location by now if we’d gone that route,” Cheri reminded them, not for the first time.

  Already, Tim was shaking his head. “We can’t do that. Stealing is wrong. Same as hurting people if they caught us. At least this way, we only have to fight something that’s attacking.”

  “You do remember we’re trying to find answers for what happened to us in real life, don’t you? I think maybe fictional stealing from fictional people is forgivable in pursuit of finding out why this game can control a GM.” Cheri kept staring at Tim as they debated, even if she might have wanted to look at Russell and make sure he was still himself. Ever since the possession, it was hard not to keep stealing glances just to check.

  “If you only do the right thing when it’s easy, then it’s convenience, not virtue,” Tim countered. “I would also argue that the fact that this game can influence our world is all the more reason to treat its people and their possessions with respect. We saw what happened to the party that acted like nothing they did mattered.”

  A quiet moment filled the previously boisterous space as everyone felt memories bubble up unbidden. Much as they were set on moving forward, that didn’t mean parts of this game didn’t scare them. It certainly hadn’t escaped Russell’s notice that despite having multiple ways they could take to gather ingredients, the party was so far defaulting to ones that required the smallest amount of interaction with non-player characters, despite those methods being more difficult. The party was still coming to terms with what they’d learned, and for now that largely meant sticking to themselves.

  “Enough bickering! Our party has chosen a course; there is no gain in looking back at the road already traveled. Turn your eyes ahead to what still needs to be accomplished. Put your energies there, and soon we’ll be past this challenge and on to the next!” Alexis—or more accurately, Gelthorn the forest warrior—made a good, loud point. Yes, they still had a lot to do, but infighting wasn’t going to make their task any easier.

  Bert drummed his fingers on the table a few times, looked at his character sheet once more, and then reached for his dice. “Aside from creating the base potion and proving our worth to Lumal, we need some other serious ingredients. Tempting as it is to wait for the phoenix ashes, based on the timetable we received, there’s a few in-game days left before the hatching. Why don’t we try to go for one of the major items in the meantime? The golden roc feathers make the most sense. There’s a mountainous region only a short ride away—the most likely place for them to nest. With a good Historical or Geographic Awareness check, we may be able to get a general idea of where to search.”

  It wasn’t enth
usiastic, but Cheri eventually nodded. “Fine. I can deal with that. Just one thing to keep in mind: Chalara doesn’t have any flying spells. If we want to search a roc’s nest, we go up the hard way. And if any of you fall, you’re probably screwed. My only fall-slowly spell requires touch.”

  “I may have an idea in that regard. Let’s see what our checks get us first, before we get too far into planning.” Bert waited for the others, who also picked up their dice. “Might as well kick things off with Historical. Roll them well, people. We could really use some more information.”

  * * *

  Timuscor’s eyes opened without warning. One minute, he was asleep, the next wide-awake. That was to be expected with magical slumber, he supposed, and given that he’d passed out in a forest surrounded by undead enemies, such could be the only explanation for an unplanned nap. He was resting on a hard surface. After lifting himself carefully, it soon became clear that he’d been laid across the pew of a church. Strangely, in spite of the hard wood on his back, Timuscor felt well-rested. Actually, he felt downright great, as though every ache and pain he’d gathered on the road was washed away. Magical healing, obviously, but an overabundance of it. Thistle, with his limited reserve, could only heal the worst of their injuries each night, perhaps mending a few of the smaller ones on slow days. This was a complete treatment, down to the tiniest cuts and blisters.

  On the heels of his surge in health came two more realizations: his armor, weapons, and gear were all missing, and the others were also waking up nearby. Their heads rose one by one. Most appeared confused, save for Gabrielle, who just looked pissed. They were all stripped of their equipment as well, only this time, there were two exceptions. Gabrielle’s axe had been sheathed in an unfamiliar holder and strapped to her back, but was otherwise still present. The other piece of equipment still in the room was Thistle’s armor, which didn’t surprise Timuscor. That armor was powerful. It had belonged to Grumble’s first paladin and was gifted to Thistle at his god’s discretion. Items like that didn’t part easily from their owners.